1 


HOLME  LEE. 

There  is  a  class  of  morlern  writers  who  have  peculiar  claims  to 
encourajjenient — that  brave  and  wise,  true-hearted  and  conscien- 
tious order  of  female  authors,  ranguig  from  Alaria  Edgeworth  to 
Julia  Kavanagh ;  who,  drawing  from  keen  personal  observation 
of  life,  and  inspired  by  the  pure  sentiment  of  humanity,  have, 
during  tlie  last  century,  furnished  English  and  American  homes 
witii  innocent  literary  entertainment.  Many  of  these  women 
support  a  widowed  mother  or  an  unfortunate  sister  by  their 
writings;  tliere  is  no  sickly  sentiment,  no  false  views  of  life  in 
their  stories,  but  beautiful  descriptions  of  nature,  elevating  revela- 
tions of  domestic  life,  instructive  delineation  of  character.  Mrs. 
Gaskill  and  Grace  Aguilar,  Miss  Youge  and  Miss  Sewall,  Mrs. 
Olipiiant  and  Miss  Ferrier,  and  scores  more,  have  thus  auspicious- 
ly ministered  to  the  enjoyment  and  improvement  of  tlieir  fellow 
creatures.  It  is  a  noble  sphere  of  duty  when  rightly  pursued, 
and  there  is  a  kind  of  fiction — a  certain  portraiture  of  life — 
singularly  adapted  to  tlie  quick  and  clear  observation  and  the 
refined  sympatiiies  of  women.  A  new  aspirant  for  this  kind  of 
literary  distinction  and  usefulness  was  recognized  by  many,  in  a 
quiet,  sad,  but  most  genuine  story,  whicli  appeared  two  years 
ago,  called  "  Kathie  Brand."  The  descriptions,  though  subdued, 
were  extremelj'-  graphic;  the  sentiment,  though  quite  unexciting, 
was  impressive ;  somewliat  of  Wilson's  pathos  seemed  united  to 
strong  sense  and  introspective  tenderness  in  this  writer. 

The  HariJers  published  her  "Sylvan  Kolt's  Daughter,"  but  did 
not  stereotype  it,  and  the  edition  has  long  been  exhausted.  This 
writer's  nom  de  plume  is  Holme  Lee,  but  her  real  name  is  Parr: 
she  is,  like  so  many  of  the  literary  sisterhood,  unmarried.  "W.  A. 
Townsend  &  Co.  have  just  issued  a  novel  trom  her  pen,  which  is 
distinguished  from  its  predecessors  by  greater  animation  of  narra- 
tive, and  more  dramatic  effect:  it  is,  however,  equallv  remarkable 
for  the  delicacy  of  the  sentiment,  its  truth,  strength  and  gentle- 
ness; the  power  that  comes  from  knowledge  of  life  and  the 
feeling  only  born  in  earnest  and  cultivated  natures,  are  admirably 
blended;  there  is  a  sustained  interest  in  the  book  as  a  tale,  and 
an  original  significance  in  the  characters;  so  that,  on  the  whole, 
"  Against  Wind  and  Tide"  is  one  of  the  best  fictions  which  have 
appeared  this  season. 

H.  T.  TUCKERMAN. 


HAWKSVIEAV. 


HAWKSVIEW 


FAMILY  HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES. 


BY 

HOLME    LEE, 

AtTTtroK  OF  "Against  Wind  and  Ttdb,'"  bto., 


"  There's  always  sunshine  somewhere  In  the  world." 


NEW  YORK: 

W.    A.    TOWNSEND    AND    COIklPANY. 

1860. 


C.    A.    ALVOKIi.    PUINTKIt.    NKW    YnKK. 


-V;/  ^  Liim  ART 

/^^  ^  :&^i VtRSITY  OF  CALIFORIfU: 

t'5\P^^  SANTA  BAKBAKA 


gart  trt^  jirist 


HAWKSVIEW. 


CHAPTER  I. 


The  Honorable  Roger  Bohun  was,  according  to 
the  world,  one  of  the  most  imprudent  of  men. 
He  married,  before  he  took  his  degree,  an  ex- 
tremely beautiful  and  good  girl  without  sixpence, 
and  almost  all  his  great  connections  quarreled 
with  him  in  consequence.  He  was  the  seventh 
and  youngest  son  of  the  noble  family  of  Bohun 
of  Castle  Bohun,  in  the  county  of  Kent,  a  family 
of  immense  antiquity  and  the  bluest  blood.  By 
virtue  of  his  birth,  his  line  talents,  and  his  hand- 
some person,  he  might  have  aspired  to  any  al- 
liance below  royalty ;  and  instead,  to  the  con- 
fusion of  his  aristocratic  relatives,  and  the  utter 
destruction  of  his  own  prospects  in  life,  he  choice 
to  unite  himself  with  a  person  who,  beyond  her 
bright  eyes,  pure  heart,  and  loving  temper,  had 
no  single  merit  to  speak  of.  Before  the  sacriticG 
was  accomplished,  the  vials  of  paternal  wrath 
1* 


10  IIAWKBVIICW. 

and  the  arrows  ul*  everybody's  sarcasm  wiis 
showered  iii>on  him  without  stint — probably  with 
preventive  views— but  afterward  he  was  treated 
with  silent  contemjir.  Only  his  mother,  who 
fancied  that  Roger  loved  her  the  best  of  all  lier 
children,  and  his  eldest  sister.  Lady  Harriet  Len- 
nox, who  had  made  an  iinprudent  marriage  her- 
self, and  said  it  was  delightful  to  see  anybody 
do  a  foolisli  thitjg  in  these  wise  days,  ventured 
to  take  his  part;  but  they  were  individuals  of 
so  little  account  in  the  family  that  they  might 
as  well  never  have  spoken  at  all — better,  per- 
haps; for  interference,  advice,  or  cintradietiou 
only  acted  as  rivets  to  Lord  dc  Bohun's  purposes. 
His  youngest  son  was  excommunicated  hence- 
forth from  paternal  favor ;  his  name  was  erased 
from  the  will  that  gave  him  Benjamin's  portion 
in  the  unentailed  ]>roj»erty,  and  f(»rbidden  to  be 
uttered  aloud  in  the  iiimily  iireside  gatherings; 
and  having  thus  executed  righteous  judgment 
and  vindicated  his  outraged  authority.  Lord  de 
Bohun  v.as  at  peace  with  himself,  and  slept  like 
the  most  forgiving  and  tender-hearted  Christian 
of  his  generation. 

It«jgfr  w;u>  v<'ry  properly  grieved  at  the  effects 
of  his  dibobc'dicnce,  but  he  was  not  repentant ; 
mortal  man  could  not  be  repentant  for  the  sin  of 
marrying,  ever  so  rashly,  such  a  beautifid,  affec- 


HAWKSVIEW^  11 

tionate,  winning  young  creature  as  his  darling 
Agnes.  She  was  scarcely  sixteen,  lance-straight, 
but  graceful  and  pliant  as  a  reed,  with  a  coun- 
tenance all  radiant  with  health,  happiness,  and 
spring.  The  bloom  of  innocence  was  on  her 
cheek,  its  lustre  in  her  eyes,  and  its  purity  in 
her  heart — a  nobler  dower,  Roger  thought,  than 
if  she  had  brought  him  her  weight  in  gold  or  a 
genealogy  unimpeachable  and  direct  from  the 
ark.  It  was  a  marriage  of  first  love  on  both 
sides,  and  promised,  spite  of  tlie  clouds  on  the 
family  horizon,  a  full  harvest  of  contentment. 
Agnes  had  few  friends  to  be  either  proud  or 
grieved  for  her.  Her  father  and  mother  had 
both  died  in  her  babyhood,  leaving  her  to  the 
guardianship  of  a  bachelor  great-uncle,  who  was 
only  too  glad  to  dispose  of  her  respectably  and 
go  back  to  the  monastic  seclusion  of  his  college, 
from  wliich,  for  her  sake,  he  had  endured  a 
fourteen  years'  exile  ;  and  of  other  relatives  she 
had  none.  When  Roger  took  his  degree,  and  the 
university  lists  were  published.  Lord  de  Bohun 
read  his  oifending  son's  name  fourth  amongst 
the  wranglers  :  he  would  much  rather  he  had 
been  wooden  spoon.  He  was  a  very  vindictive 
old  man,  and  every  congratulation  that  people 
ventured  to  insinuate  only  added  a  bitterer  flavor 
to  the   gall    of  his  unappeased   wrath.      Roger 


12  IIAWKSVIKW. 

urote  to  his  motlier  to  tell  her  of  his  success, 
and  the  poor  lady,  forhidden  to  answer,  or  in 
any  way  to  acknowledge  her  son's  letter,  cried 
over  it  tor  half  a  day,  while  Lady  Harriet  Len- 
nox sent  him  a  pretty  epistle  of  felicitation  and 
encouragement,  and  a  bracelet  of  her  own  for  his 
wife. 

Roger  made  no  application,  either  direct  or  in- 
direct, to  his  father  for  assistance ;  he  took  orders, 
and,  by  an  advertisement,  obtained  the  curacy  of 
Boscombe-Magna  in  Yorkshire,  with  a  stiiiend  of 
one  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  a  year,  and  the 
rectory-house,  partly  furnished,  to  live  in.  Bo 
sides  his  wife  he  had  one  fine  little  baby -girl  to 
begin  his  establishment  with ;  and  they  three, 
with  nurse  Beste  for  major-domo,  and  a  stout 
dale's  girl  for  general  attendant,  went  into  house- 
keeping on  the  very  day  that  Koger  was  twenty- 
three  and  Agnes  eighteen. 

Agnes  said  tlie  rectory  was  surely  the  sweetest 
8]>ot  out  of  Eden,  and  the  day  was  a  day  of  good 
omen  too — Midsummer  day. 

There  was  not  a  cloud  in  the  sky  ;  hill  and  dale 
Were  flooded  with  an  intcflso  yellow  sunshine, 
and  all  the  shaclows  seemed  to  have  hidden  them- 
Belvcs  away  amongst  the  cool  dense  green  foliage 
of  the  trees.  The  air  was  warm,  soft,  lu.xurious, 
caressing;    perfumed    with   the   breath    of   new 


^-  IIAWKSVIEW.  13 

mown  liay,  and  vocal  with  the  lowing  of  kino 
in  rich  pastures,  tlie  lazy  chirp  of  bird  or  in- 
sect, and  the  whistle  of  the  2>easant  at  his  toil  in 
distant  fields.  Th.e  garden  was  one  profuse  tangle 
of  roses,  jasmin,  sweetbrler,  and  all  hardy  bloom- 
ing scented  plants,  and  the  first  sight  of  the  new 
home  was  as  of  some  gigantic  bee-hive  or  bird's 
nest,  that  the  flowering  creepers  bad  almost  over- 
grown. Scarcely  a  stone's  throw  away  was  tlie 
church— a  picturesque  old  church,  sucli  as  Agnes 
had  loved  to  prefigure  to  herself,  a  church  with  a 
low  belfry,  and  shrouded  with  ivy,  even  to  the 
concealment  of  its  quaint  and  homely  outline. 
A  double  row  of  patriarchal  elms  divided  "  God's 
acre"  from  the  rectory  garden,  and  a  colony  of 
rooks  amongst  their  interlaced  branches  promised 
music  more  than  enough  in  windy  March  weather ; 
but  Agnes  vowed  she  liked  a  rookery  near  the 
house,  and  that  she  would  not  for  worlds  have  it 
away  !  Then  when  they  came  into  the  small  old- 
fashioned  rooms,  which  had  been  made  as  fresh 
and  gay  to  view  as  the  flower-beds  outside  tlie 
lattice-paned  bay-M'indoM's,  she  said  that  they 
were  delicious,  and  tliat  the  rectory  was  the  very 
picture  of  the  place  she  had  always  dreamt  of  in 
her  day-dreams  and  called  Home ! 

Looking  abroad  from  tliose  queer  sunny  vrin- 
dows  stretched  a  grand  expanse  of  rich,  fertile 


14  iiAWKi^vrcw. 

ctiiHitry,  iMiumlecl  Ly  a  line  of  lieatli-el;ul  liills; 
and  in  the  hollow  run  a  river  so  clear,  sparkling 
and  translneent  in  the  sunshine,  that  they  could 
see  from  afar  off  that  it  flowed  with  a  swift  cur- 
rent and  over  a  jicbbly  bed.  Nature  here  was  in  no 
])enuriou8  mood;  she  had  sown  her  richest  broad- 
cast, and  dealt  out  her  best  and  fairest  gifts  with 
a  lavishly  bountiful  haiul. 

Agnes  said  in  her  jdcaj^ant  voice,  which  it  was 
sweetest  music  to  hear,  "Roger,  we  may  be  luxu- 
riously ]>oor  in  this  beautiful  country,  may  we 
not  ?"  and  Roger  answered  that  he  should  be  lux- 
uriously ri'h  with  her  anywhere  ;  tliat  he  was  de- 
termined to  make  the  best  of  botii  worlds,  and  to 
enjoy,  as  far  as  he  might,  the  life  that  had  been 
given  them  to  spend  together,  with  much  more 
epicurean  philosophy  to  the  same  effect;  and  Ag- 
nes listened  as  if  he  were  god  speaking  and  his 
lips  drop])ed  oracles.  These  two  had  accc]»ted 
life's  mightiest  res])onsibilities  and  touched  its 
climax  early  ;  but  they  had  brought  to  its  after- 
battle  romance  enough  to  bear  the  brunt  of  its 
rudest  disenchantments,  and  love  to  lift  them  tri- 
umphantly above  its  trivftil  cares.  The  new  ex- 
istence showed  like  the  beginning  of  a  ]deasant 
jiastoral,  throngh  which  they  were  to  go  hand  in 
hand,  without  shock  of  grievous  experience  or  any 
let  or  hindrance  whatever;  all  life-long  one  glow- 
ing, glorious  midsumnuM-  Awy. 


ir  AWK8VIKW.  1  5 


CHAPTER  II. 

The  working  hours  of  tins  white  day  drew 
toward  a  close.  The  tired  hay-makers  were 
Avending  their  way  homeward  from  the  fragrant 
jfields;  and  with  the  evening  purple  came  a 
heather-scented  breeze  that  made  a  plaintive,  sigh- 
ing music  amongst  the  elms.  Against  the  nur- 
sery window  the  ruddy-leaved  American  creeper 
struck  with  a  faintly  sharp  monotone,  as  if  keep- 
ing tinie  to  the  mother's  love-ditty  that  Agnes 
was  crooning  over  her  baby,  as  she  lay  upon  her 
lap.  Little  Mona  ought  to  have  been  asleep  in 
her  cot  an  hour  ago,  but  there  she  was,  her 
blue  eyes  wide  open,  and  mischievously  watchful, 
breaking  out,  now  and  again,  into  a  vivacious 
crow  that  Agnes  was  fain  to  smother  with  a 
shower  of  kisses  on  her  pouting  rebel  lips.  She 
received  all  her  caresses  with  the  superb  air  of 
a  baby  princess  accustomed  to  loving  homage 
from  the  maternal  subject ;  and  treated  nurse 
Beste's  expostulatory  hushes  with  truly  regal  in- 


|<;  IIAWKSVIEW. 

•     -^ 

difference,  as  if  slie  and  .lier  motncr  were  in  it 
le;i<riie  air.iinst  that  judicious  W(»ni:in,  and  deter- 
mined  to  liuvc  tlicir  jirettv  play  out.  Her  r<»sy 
lingers  made  snatches  at  Agnes's  clustering  curls 
as  niey  swept  over  her  lace,  at  the  blue  ribbon 
round  her  neck,  and  the  sliining  gold  chain  that 
held  her  watch  ;  and  every  successful  clutch  was 
triumphantly  announced  by  a  little  shrill  cry  and 
laugh,  than  which,  I  suppose,  sweeter  melody  was 
never  heard  by  mothers'  eai*s.  Agnes  thought 
it  the  perfection  of  music,  and  could  have  listened 
to  it  for  ever. 

Presently  the  door  opened  witli  an  obtrusively 
cautious  creak,  and  Koger  jn-crcd  in,  "What! 
is  the  wee  rogue  still  awuke  V  cried  he,  when  he 
Haw  how  matters  stood,  and  tlien  advancing  boldl v, 
he  took  his  little  daugliter  from  Agnes's  lap,  and 
proceeded  to  toss  her  high  in  air,  t<»  lu-r  own 
intense  delight,  and  nurse  J)este's  jiatient  aggra- 
vation. Agnes  sang,  cla])i»ed  her  hands,  held  out 
her  arms  in  "mock  terror  as  slic  went  up,  and 
hh<Kjk  her  bright  curls  over  her  as  she  camo 
down,  in  almost  as  great  an  ecstacy  as  baby 
h(T>«lf ;  atul  when  her  last  shadow  of  sleepiness 
wa».<iiwipatetl  slic  got  lier  back  into  her  fMisdiii 
for  another  ten  minutes  of  jictting  and  cooin<', 
•*'•»-  •■ '  -  '  *'ie  l)onnie,  wistful  eyes  closed,  nn<l 
•d  sMiile  on  her  face,  and  a   final 


IIAWKSVIKW.  1 7 

but  abortive  diiSi  at  her  mother's  tangled  hair, 
Mona  fell  aslei^p,  and  was  laid  down  tenderly  on 
her  pretty  white  cot.  Agnes  M'as  half  disposed 
to  linger  by  it,  but  Roger  bade  her  come  away 
into  the  garden  before  it  was  too  dark  to  see 
the  view ;  and  not  even  for  her  helpless  darling- 
would  she  forego  the  quiet  twilight  saunter  that 
had  been  amongst  tiieir  pleasantest  of  pleasant 
times  ever  since  they  were  married. 

They  walked  silently  for  some  minutes  up  and 
down  the  lawn  in  front  of  the  house,  feeling  the 
balmy  hush  of  the  hour  as  a  soother  of  active 
thought.  Roger  was  the  first  to  speak,  and 
tlien  it  was  only  to  remark  on  the  delicious  still- 
ness and  beauty  of  the  hour.  "  If  w^e  go  to 
the  end  of  the  planted  walk  that  runs  along 
the  top  of  the  paddock,  we  shall  have  even 
a  finer  and  more  expansive  prospect  than  we 
have  here,"  he  added;  and  happy,  satisfied, 
easily  pleased  as  children,  they  loitered  hand  in 
hand  under  the  trees,  while  the  night  dropped 
softly  through  the  thick  boughs,  and  the  breeze 
sobbed  and  soughed  distantly  upon  the  hills.  It 
was  too  dusk  to  see  far  away  ;  but  the  slopes  of 
Boscombe  Park,  and  the  white  chimneys  of  J;he 
great  house  overtopping  the  surrounding  plan- 
tations, were  visible  ;  also  the  scattered  cottages, 
standing    each    in    its    enclosure   of   garden    or 


1  b  llAWKSVIEW. 

orchard,  and  some  uf  the  nearer  t'annltoads  were 
to  be  seen  in  a  dim  seelusiun.  At  the  extremity 
of  tlie  walk  there  wjis  a  noblo  horse-chestnut, 
ronnd  the  bole  of  which  a  rustic  seat  of  unl)arked 
lir  branches  had  been  constructed ;  and  here 
they  sat  down,  Agnes  wrapped  in  lloger's  plaid 
and  encircled  by  liis  arm.  These  two  were 
lovers  to  their  lives'  end,  it  wjis  said  by  one 
who  knew  them  well ;  the  secure  and  tranquil 
use  of  wedded  love  never  wore  otf  the  tender 
romance  of  their  youth. 

"Listen,  Iloijer,  that  twittering  of  the  birds 
is  delicious,"  said  Agnes,  in  a  whisper;  "and  is 
that  a  running  water  we  hear  through  the  trees  <" 

"  Yes,  it  is  Boscombe  beck.  Look  over  west- 
ward. Do  yon  see  a  black  clump  of  Scotch  firs 
cutting  obli<juclv  against  the  sky  V  and  liogcr 
jiointed  to.,a  distinct  ridge  of  hills  beyond  which 
the  clouds  were*  still  suffused  with  tlie  roseate 
glow  of  sunset 

"Just  on  the  brow^  Yes,  I  sec  it.  "VVhut  ;ui 
eyrie  look  it  has,  standing  alone  like  a  clump  of 
spectral  trcH*s  in  a  German  ballad  !"     • 

"That  is  Ilawksview,  the  utm(»st  l)ound  oi 
our  parish.  Hot  ween  it  and  us  tlie.  land  dips 
down,  and  in  the  hollow  lie  the  village  of  Moat, 
and  tlie  Old  Moat  House;  melancholy  places 
),otlif' 


IIAAVKSVLEW.  VJ 

"Is  tlierc  any  house  on  Ilawksview?  I  saw  a 
light  ghxncing,  as  if  from  one  room  to  anotlier,  a 
ijQomcnt  since,  Roger." 

"  Yes,  there  is  a  picturesque  little  cottage, 
sheltered  by  some  fine  elms ;  but,  so  far  as  I 
know,  it  is  uninhabited.  If  you  are  credulous 
of  such  fables,  the  country  gossips  will  try  to 
persuade  you  before  long  that  it  is  haunted." 

"  Haunted !"  repeated  Agnes,  shivering  closer 
to  her  husband's  side,  and  then  laughing  at  her 
own  involuntary  fear,  "  Haunted  !  Uncle  Chris- 
topher said  we  were  coming  to  live  a  centniy  out 
of  the  world;  that  will  be  something  to  tell  him 
when  we  write.  But  look,  Roger,  there  is  the 
light  again.     Don't  you  see  it  ? 

"That  flashing  is  nothing  more  than  the  glit- 
ter of  sunset  on  the  upper  windows  of  the  cottage. 
If  you  watch  for  a  few  minutes  you  will  find  it 
disappear  altogether.     It  is  gone  now." 

Agnes  was  perhaps  a  little  disappointed  at  this 
very  natural  and  prosaic  interj^retation  of  the 
mysterious  light,  for  she  loved  a  tale  of  wonder 
as  dearly  %s  if  she  had  been  bred  up  amongst 
country  superstitions  and  legends  all  her  life. 
During  some  time  longer  she  kept  her  gaze  fixed 
on  the  point  where  it  had  vanished,  in  the  hope 
that  it  would  gleam  out  again  ;  bat  the  M'arm 
flush  faded  gradually  from  the  hills,  and  the  sen- 


20  UAWKtiVII.W. 

tinel  fire  grew  indistinct  against  the  billows    of 
uark  purp^^  clouds  beyond. 

"  There  must  be  a  story  belonging  to  the 
l>lace;  do  you  know  what  it  is,  Roger?''  she 
aaked. 

"  A  story  there  is,  of  course ;  but  neither  a  very 
old  nor  a  very  remark  able  one  to  raise  a  ghost 
from,"  replied  Roger,  much  amused  at  her  credu- 
lous interest ;  "  I  am  not  sure  that  I  can  tell  it 
correctly  cither;  but  such  as  it  is,  if  you  like  to 
hear  it—" 

"  O,  ye>  1  I  should  like  to  hear  it  above  all 
thiu'^s ;"  and  with  licr  face  turned  toward  her 
husband's  shoulder,  and  her  eyes  watching  the 
furtive  smile  on  his  lips,  she  j)rej>ared  herself  to 
listen.  lie  glanced  aside  and  laughed — not  a 
verv  ai)j)r<)])riate  prelude  to  a  ghost  story,  and 
she  bade  him  bcgin,-with  a  pretty  tremulous 
earnestness,  which  testified  that  some  faith  min- 
gled with  her  curiosity. 

"I  must  tell  you  first  that  Ilawksview  is  n<»t 
the  property  of  any  of  the  great  landowners  of 
Astondalc,  and  never  has  been,"  he  be^n.  "The 
I'roughs  have  been  lords  of  the  manors  of  Bos- 
combe  and  Moat  ever  since  this  district  was  wild, 
unenclosed  forest ;  and  Ilawksview,  which  lies 
on  the  western  outskirta  of  their  possessions,  has 
been  for  generations  a  coveted  hut   unattainalde 


nAWKSVIEW.  21 

jewel.  It  was  held,  in  the  old  troublous  times, 
by  a  branch  of  the  great  Yescey  family,  who 
built  a  tower  for  defence  upon  it,  which  gave 
place  long  since  to  the  quaint  little  dwelling- 
house,  the  flashing  of  whose  windows  in  the  sun- 
set you  took  for  a  moving  light  just  now.  Some 
superstitious  bond  keeps  it  still  in  the  same  race, 
who  have  ever  resisted  the  most  tempting  bribes 
to  let  it  pass  into  other  hands.  Tlie  present 
story  dates  scarcely  twelve  years  back — " 

"  Scarcely  twelve  years  back !"  interrupted 
Agnes,  raising  her  head  impatiently  ;  "  then  I  am 
sure  it  is  not  a  real  ghost  story  ;  but  go  on." 

"  A  ghost  story,  like  wine,  to  be  good  must  be 
old,  must  it?  Well,  mine  has  an  air  of  antiquity 
about  it  too,  if  3'ou  will  listen." 

AsTnes  laid  her  cheek  softly  on  his  shoulder, 
and  promised  not  to  speak  again  until  the  tale 
was  done,  and  Roger  continued  :  "  The  house  had 
stood  empty  longer  than  any  body  could  remem- 
ber, when,  one  late  autumn  day,  smoke  was  seen 
to  issue  from  the  chimneys  ;  and  a  casual  passer- 
by on  the  road  that  crosses  in  front  of  the  house, 
reported  that  he  had  seen  a  beautiful  young  girl 
and  a  dark-looking  gentleman  sitting  together 
upon  the  terrace  that  overlooks  the  valley,  much 
as  we  are  doing  now,  Agnes.  Who  they  were, 
or  whence  they  came,  was  a  mystery.     They  re- 


nAAVKSVIF.W. 


ccived  no  letters,  never  appeared  at  ehnrch,  or, 
indeed,"  anywhere  beyond  the  limits  of  Hawks- 
view,  and  seemed  to  live  entirely  for  themselves 
and  each  other.  They  were  there  all  throngh  ihe 
winter ;  but  when  spring  came  the  wBy  was  ob- 
served to  take  her  walks  in  the  garden  alone,  and 
to  be  often  at  the  gate  looking  down  the  road  as 
if  on  the  watch  for  somebody.  Those  who  saw^ 
her  said  that  her  faee  was  become  wan  and  hag- 
gard, and  that  she  had  the  air  of  a  person  almost 
beside  herself  for  sorrow.  Then  the  wail  of  a 
liitle  child  was  heard  in  the  house  ;  and  soon  after 
its  tenants  departed  as  secretly  as  they  had  come, 
and  it  waa  all  shut  up  again.  Ever  since,  the 
gossips  say,  the  place  is  haunted." 

Agnes  drew  a  long  breath.  "  Ah  !  Roger,  it  is 
just  an  old  love-story,"  said  she,  pitifully. 

"  An  old  lovc-^tory,  and  nothing  else  ;  it  does 
not  even  pretend  to  tell  what  gho>ts  or  shadows 
have  given  Ilawksview  its  ill  name." 

In  her  gentle  imagination,  Agnes  thought  out 
tlie  details  of  the  sad,  simple  history,  as  she  leant 
on  the  strong,  safe  ])rotcetif>n  of  her  husband's 
arm.  "  I  think  I  can  see  her  watching  at  the  gate, 
linger — and  she  may  be  living  now.  I  wish  it 
liad  happened  a  hundred  years  ago,  and  then  wo 
slunild  be  Bure  slic  had  done  grieving,"  was  the 
issue  of  lier  reflections. 


nAWKSviEW.  23 

"Wliat  a  tender  little  heart  it  is!  Come,  the 
dew  is  falling,  let  us  go  in."  And,  drawing  the 
plaid  hood-fashion  over  his  young  wife's  liead, 
Itoger  and  she  loitered  slowly  back  toward  the 
garden.  Ha:wksview  was  now  only  a  dim  lino 
against  the  sky,  and  the  monotonous  ripple  of  the 
"beck  under  the  hedgerow  was  all  that  the  mid- 
snmnier  day  had  left  of  its  many-voiced  harmonies 
to  the  dusk-eyed  night.  Under  the  bowery  porcli 
they  paused  to  breathe  for  a  few  moments  the 
aromatic  fragrance  of  the  jasmin,  whoso  tangled 
mass  of  leaf  and  bloom  quite  hid  the  trellice- 
work,  and  crept  up  upon  the  roof. 

"  If  M''e  had  sought  the  world  through,  Roger, 
we  could  not  have  found  a  pleasanter  place  than 
this  !"  said  Agnes,  with  an  air  of  profound  con- 
tent. She  had  made  the  same  remarkable  obsei-- 
vation  at  least  half-a-score  times  before  that  day  ; 
but  Roger,  still  struck  by  its  charming  oiigin- 
ality,  responded  by  a  gentle  caress  of  the  little 
hand  clinging  to  his  arm.  "  Look  at  my  Ladyo 
Moon  rising  over  the  crest  of  the  hill.  Ah  !  Ro- 
ger, is  Castle-Bohun  better  than  this  ?" 

"  No,  sweetheart,  nor  half  so  good,"  replied  he, 
with  a  lingering  intonation  on  that  quaint,  pretty 
name  by  which  he  loved  to  call  her.  "  You  are 
going  to  be  jealous  of  the  old  home.     Yes,  I  see." 


2i  nAWKavTKw. 

"  Jealoug,  Roger!    D<>!i"t  thii)k  that,  for  indeed 
I  nm  not  jealous.     How  could  I  be?"' 

lloger  did  not  pretend  to  answer  this  diflicult 
question :  he  merely  drew  her  into  the  hall,  took 
off  the  heavy  plaid,  kissed  her  dear  |pveable  face, 
and  bade  her  make  haste  down  from  the  nursery, 
■whither  she  was  goiog :  for  he  felt  strange  in  the 
new  home  without  her.  She  rejoined  him  in  a 
few  minutes,  reporting  that  Mona  slept  like  a 
darling  cherub,  and  that  she  was  sure  the  air  of 
Boscombe  was  going  to  agree  with  her.  Nurse 
Beste,  that  high  professional  authority,  had  just 
stated  such  to  be  her  iirm,  mature,  and  unbiassed 
judgment.  It  was  not  for  lloger  to  call  such 
judgment  j)remature,  or  to  cast  a  doubt  on  what 
was  equally  })leasiiig  and  jirobable.  lie  duly  said, 
"You  always  put  me  in  mind  of  my  dear  mother, 
Agnes." 

''How  so,  dear  Roger,  tell  me?*' 

"  Because  you  always  look  on  the  bright  side. 
She  will  love  you  dearly  wlu.'n  you  come  to  know 
each  other.'' 

Agnes  siglu'd,  and  thought,  "  "NVjicn  will  f /in t 
bef'  but  she  said  no  more.  Tiiis  was  a  rather 
sore  snbjf'ct  with  her. 


HAWKSVIEW.  25 


CHAPTER  III. 

Agnes  had  the  domestic  graces  in  as  fine  develop- 
ment as  the  domestic  virtues.  She  possessed  a 
keen  sense  of  the  beauty  and  fitness  of  things, 
which  she  carried  into  the  simplest  arrangements 
of  everyday  life ;  a  trace  of  elegance  and  perfect 
orderliness  was  left  on  all  she  touched.  Though 
Koger  Boliun  had  passed  his  youth  in  the  midst 
of  a  superlative  luxury,  in  this  old-bird's-nest  of  a 
rectory  he  missed  nothing.  The  machinery  work- 
ed noiselessly  and  out  of  sight;  the  same  fairy 
fingers  that  sacredly  respected  the  disarrange- 
ments of  his  study,  kept  the  tiny  drawing-room  as 
bright  and  pleasant  as  a  holiday  ;  but  to  Roger 
it  always  seemed  as  if  the  brightness  and  pleasant- 
ness which  had  so  magical  an  effect,  emanated 
from  a  certain  pair  of  blue-grey  eyes  that  were 
full  of  heart-sunshine  whenever  he  looked  into 
them.  There  was  a  sense  and  a  presence  as  of 
repose  about  Agnes,  which,  to  a  man  intense, 
passionate,  and  enthusiastic  as  he  was,  were  an 
2 


26  UA^VKS^^E^v. 

abiding  cliarm.  She  never  wearied,  never  dis- 
appointed him.  There  was  in  her  that  subtle  in- 
Btinct,  that  fine  pure  intelligence  wliich  divines  a 
mood  and  harmonises  with  it  quite  unconsciously. 
Was  he  grave,  she  would  sit  silent  by,  waiting  till 
it  pleased  him  to  speak ;  was  he  gay,  she  would 
sing  liis  favorite  songs — simple  Scotch  and  f]ngHsh 
ballads  of  no  great  skill,  but  of  a  most  charming 
melody ;  or  she  would  listen  to  his  wise  talk  about 
old  books  and  authors  that  he  loved,  as  if  they 
were  her  bosom  friends  too,  and  so  gather  knowl- 
edge to  lit\  her  nearer  to  his  level.  She  did  not 
coin  for  herself  rivals  out  of  his  books  or  silent 
thoughts,  as  some  women  will,  but  held  herself 
the  crowning  joy  and  glory  of  his  life  as  hS  was 
of  hers.  Half  her  love  for  him  was  reverence, 
but  all  his  love  for  her  was  love,  and  he  used  to 
say  with  tender  pride,  that  she  was  a  youthful 
copy  of  Solomon's  famous  house-m(»ther,  whose 
price  was  above  rubies;  yet,  Eli  Burton,  Roger's 
friend,  declaned  when  he  came  to  know  her  well, 
that  she  was  merely  a  "sweet  imperfection." 

Eli  Burton  was  abroad  at  the  date  of  Rocrer 
Bohun's  marriage,  and  for  some  time  after,  but  ho 
was  the  fii-st  guest  entertained  at  the  rectory  after 
liis  return  homo.  Roger  wrote' him  a  letter  of 
invitation,  to  which  Agnes  api)t'nded  a  imstscript 
that  filled  him  witii  dismay ;  tor,  being  given  to 


HAWK8VIEW.  27 

judging  of  character  by  handwriting,  he  discern- 
ed in  her's  signs  of  an  untamed  Katharine,  who, 
he  doubted  not,  was  inflicting  a  daily  matrimonial 
martyrdom  on  his  poor  friend.  But,  arriving  at 
the  rectory  in  Roger's  temporary  absence,  he  was 
obliged  to  introduce  himself  to  this  redoubtable 
Kate,  who  came  in  from  the  garden  to  receive 
him,  with  flushed  cheeks  and  loosened  hair,  hav- 
ing most  probably  been  engaged  in  a  game  of 
romps  with  little  Mona.  She  greeted  him  with 
the  sweetest  courtesy  imaginable — a  rather  shy 
and  blushing  courtesy,  perhaps  which  made  him 
wonder  why  the  tails  of  her  g's  curled  so  per- 
tinaciously, and  why  her  h's  looked  so  sharp  and 
spiteful. 

He,  however,  soon  forgot  those  ominous  warn- 
ings, for  in  less  than  five  minutes  he  discovered 
that  she  was  neither  cross  nor  pragmatical,  and 
she  liked  to  talk  of  nothing  so  much  as  of  Roger, 
Roger's  friends,  Roger's  school-days,  his  college 
days,  his  learning,  his  fine  character,  his  excellen- 
cies, and  even  his  prejudices — themes  on  which 
Eli  was  just  as  fluent ;  for  if  there  was  a  being  in 
the  world  whom  he  thought  worthy  of  all  love, 
honor  and  admiration,  it  was  Roger  Bohun. 
Each  held  a  very  warm  corner  in  the  other's  heart, 
and  neither  was  the  man  to  consider  lightly  of 
the  precious  store  of  trust,  congeniality,  and  aflec- 


2S  IIAWKSVIEW. 

tioii  expressed  in  an  old  friendship  of  school  days. 
It  is  not  the  acqnaintance  formed  when  life  has  be- 
come action  and  struggle,  but  the  love  which  long 
liabit  has  worn  into  second  nature,  the  thousand 
and  one  recollections  of  work  done,  difficulties 
pulled  through,  and  holiday  times  enjoyed  to- 
gether that  knit  that  brotherhood  of  the  spirit 
closer  and  dearer  often  than  the  brotherhood  of 
the  flesh. 

"When  Roger  came  in  he  found  Eli  nursing 
his  left  knee  in  the  rectory  drawing-room,  exactly 
as  he  had  seen  him  do  a  score  of  times  or  more 
during  an  argument  that  interested  him  in  his 
rooms  at  Trinit}'.  Their  meeting  was  as  enthu- 
t-iastic  and  gleeful  as  that  of  two  school-boys,  and 
Agnes,  whose  tact  was  delicate  exceedingly,  con- 
trived to  be  wanted  by  Mona  until  dinner-time; 
and  so  left  them  to  have  their  iirst  long  talk — 
which,  be  sure  lacked  not  its  panegyric  on  so  fair 
and  kind  a  wife — to  themselves. 

They  sat  late  after  dinner,  too ;  but  she  had  no 
idea  of  feeling  herself  neglected.  She  ordered 
tea  later,  and  stayed  embroidering  Mona's  coat 
till  dusk ;  then  she  went  up  stairs  to  peep  at  her 
in  hercot,and  came  back,  thinking  gratefully  how 
quiet,  happy,  and  easy  all  her  young  life  had  been. 
When  at  hist  they  did  coiue,  hhe  said,"!  am 
glad;"  but  M-itiiout  any  injured  feeling  at  their 


nAWKSviEw.  29 

having  stayed  away  so  long.  She  reflected  that, 
of  course,  they  must  have  many  things  to  tell  each 
other  that  were  not  for  her  to  hear ;  Koger  had  loved 
Eli  as  a  faithful  companion  years  before  he  knew 
her,  and*  it  was  not  for  a  wife  to  come  between 
her  husband  and  his  friend,  or  to  be  jealous  of 
that  niche  in  his  heart  which  not  even  she — ten- 
der, good,  earnest,  and  intelligent  as  she  may  be 
— can  adequately  fill. 

Eli  Burton  was  a  fine  scholar,  and  a  very  hon- 
est gentleman  ;  but  he  was  extremely  hard-favor- 
ed— an  ugly  man,  indeed.  He  had  a  big,  loose- 
limbed,  ungainly  figure,  topped  by  a  massive 
head  and  a  shock  of  harsh,  grizzled  hair,  which 
appeared  as  if  it  had  not  been  pruned  for  years. 
His  forehead  was  already  lined  with  wrinkles, 
and  his  eyes  reflected  the  very  dimmest  conscious- 
ness of  there  being  anything  to  see  within  then- 
range;  for  they  were  generally  fixed  on  the 
ground,  or  on  his  knee,  encircling  which  were 
clasped  his  large-jointed  uncomely  hands.  Na- 
ture, however,  had  given  him  one  grace  to  vindi- 
cate himself  withal,  and  this  was  a  very  pleasant 
voice;  almost  as  pleasant,  Agnes  allowed,  as  Rog- 
er's. He  had  been  a  great  traveler  during  the 
last  three  years.  He  had  seen  Jerusalem  and  the 
Dead  Sea,  Grand  Cairo  and  the  Pyramids,  the 
site  of  old  Troy,  Athens  and  the  bay  of  Salamis, 


30  IIAWKSVIEW. 

Rome  and  the  Pope,  Constantinople  and  the  Sul- 
tan, Paris  and  the  Grisettes.  He  had  seen  all  the 
grand  tourists'  line  of  march,  and  not  a  few  other 
things  besides ,  but  his  stories  were  not  of  the 
Baron  Munchausen  order,  or  marked  bj'hn}'  dra- 
matic mischances;  and  he  wound  uj)  a  brilliant 
description  of  Alpine  scenery,  by  saying  drily  to 
Agnes : — "  Yet,  indeed,  madam,  I  was  often  home- 
sick, and  often  disappointed  ;  for  travelers  do  not 
carry  favorable  weather  in  their  knapsacks  at  all 
times.  I  cannot  remember  having  ever  felt  better 
pleased  with  any  fine  scenery  than  I  am  with  this 
little  valley  of  yours,  of  which  we  have  never 
heard  in  a  guide  book." 

Agnes  left  her  husband  and  his  friend  in  the 
height  of  the  lively  talk  which  hatl  made  the 
hours  pass  with  incredible  swiftness,  and  betook 
herself  to  her  bed.  AVhen  she  was  gone,  the 
two  gentlemen  adjourned  to  Roger's  study,  where 
Eli  could  smoke  his  pi})e  in  peace  and  comfort, 
and  there  they  stayed  gossiping  until  far  on 
into  the  small  hourp.  Wakinsr  out  of  her  first 
sleep,  Agnes  heard  the  mufHed  sound  of  their 
voices  and  laughter,  which  afterward  wove  thein- 
Bclves  into  a  good  dream,  where  Eli  was  enacting 
the  ])art  of  fairy  godmother  to  Mona,  and  help- 
ing Roger  to  comj)ile  a  book  of  ponderous  ser- 
mons that  was  to  make  somebody's  fortune.     It 


HAWKSVIEW.  31 

might  have  been  thought  that  this  long  chat 
would  almost  have  exhausted  their  budget  of 
cews  ;  hut  the  next  morning,  immediately  after 
breakfast,  they  were  together  again,  pacing  up 
and  down  under  the  shady  elms,  and  talking  as 
eagerly  as  if  they  had  but  just  met.  Some 
chance  word,  perhaps,  called  up  an  interminable 
series  of  boyish  recollections,  young  ambitions, 
and  young  hopes  belonging  to  those  shining 
golden  days  when  the  world's  good  things  seemed 
only  waiting  for  them  to  conquer — ambitions  and 
hopes  which  neither  had  attained  to,  nor  ever 
would;  but  which  could  not  be  called  disap- 
pointments, nevertheless. 


32  IIAWKSVIKAV. 


CnAPTER  IV. 

The  weather  being  somewhat  over  clouded  and 
favorahle  to  tlie  sport,  they  had  a  days'  fishing 
in  the  trout-beck;  and  Agnes  joined  them  in  the 
afternoon  for  the  sake  of  coming  home  with 
Roger.  Anotlier  morning  was  spent  fossil-hunt- 
ing in  Landsdown  cpiarrics,  and  another  in  a  long 
excursion  to  view  the  Roman  remains  on  Bloro 
Heath.  The  name  and  story  of  llawksview 
liad  taken  fast  hold  of  Agnes's  curiosity  ;  and 
having  made  Eli  Burton  a  sharer  in  her  interest, 
one  evening  they  all  went  up  there  together. 
Agnes  had  a  quick  and  delicate  a])i)reeiation  (»f 
the  simj)le  and  beautiful  in  natural  scenery — an 
appreciation  eager  and  artless  enough  in  its  ex- 
pressioai  to  make  Eli  smile,  though  it  did  not  oc- 
cur to  him  to  check  it,  as  some  traveled  people 
check  the  6imi)le  raptures  of  contented  stay-at- 
homes.  He  let  lier  go  on  thinking,  as  indeed  he 
thought  himself,  that  Astondale  was  quite  as  beau- 
tiful, and    quite  as  well  worth  seeing,  as   many 


HAWKSVIEAV.  33 

more  famous  places  to  wliicli  folks  travel  at  vast 
expenditure  of  time  and  money. 

With  many  curves  and  bends  the  road  wound 
up  the  hill,  at  first  bordered  by  stately  elm,  oak, 
and  ash  trees,  %vhich  gave  way  presently  to  plan- 
tations of  larch,  spruce-fir,  and  hardy  Scotch  pine. 
Still  higher,  on  one  side,  rose  a  precipitous  stony 
bank,  over  the  ragged  edges  of  which  waved 
sprays  of  wild  rose-briar  and  white-blossomed 
bramble.  A  narrow  thread  of  water  ran  in  a 
gtony  course  by  the  road-side ;  but  in  the  wet  sea- 
son it  sometimes  flooded  the  lane  so  deeply  that 
Hawksview  was  cut  off"  for  weeks  together  from 
the  rest  of  the  world.  Agnes  thought  the  ascent 
was  like  going  up  to  one  of  those  enchanted  cas^ 
ties  in  the  marvelous  German  fairy  books,  which 
she  had  not  yet  quite  given  up  being  charmed 
with  ;  and  if  something  eerie  and  supernatui-al 
had  chanced  to  peer  out  of  a  cleft,  or  to  shout  to 
them  from  the  top  of  one  of  those  great,  creaking, 
giant-armed  fir-trees,  it  would  not  have  struck  her 
as  anything  remarkable. 

Through  openings  in  the  foliage  there  were  oc- 
casional glimpses  of  the  house  w^iich  looked  from 
below  like  a  huge  cairn  with  twinkling  eyes  of 
windows  in  the  sunshine;  but  seen  in  front,  it  ex- 
hibited a  certain  grotesque  regularity.  It  was 
little  and  low,  as  if  it  had  cowered  down  under 

9* 


34  HA'\\'KSVIF\V. 

the  trees  to  let  the  <;ri'at  winds  paes  over-head  ; 
and  was  huiU  of  r()U<^li  ihuk  stone,  (piarried  in  tlic 
hill  side:  while  all  the  wood-work  was  of  native 
larch,  cut  in  the  plantation  on  the  brow.  Two 
gables  of  steep  pitch,  Avith  eaves  projecting  like 
eyelids  over  the  lattices,  fronted  toward  the  south 
— .1  rude  porch  was  in  the  midst,  and  on  either 
side  were  the  low,  wide  windows  of  the  two  parlors. 
The  garden  gate  hung  by  a  single  hinge  to 
the  deca^'ing  side-post.  The  children  from  Moat, 
when  they  went  up  there  a-hlackberrying,  had 
swung  upon  it  until  it  had  given  way  under  their 
weight,  so  that  there  was  no  impediment  to  the 
incursions  of  the  stray  cattle  and  vilkige  donkeys 
that  delighted  to  make  this  wilderness  of  greenery 
their  pound.  Eli  insisted  upon  driving  out  two 
of  the  last-named  trespassers ;  and  while  ho  was 
thus  occupied,  Iloger  and  Agnes  went  up  the 
mossy  pathway  to  the  house.  Parting  the  matted 
creepers  which  covered  the  lower  half  of  the 
windows,  they  looked  in,  as  well  as  the  mists  of 
many  vears  would  allow,  upon  the  emptiness  c»f 
the  deserted  house.  Against  the  mildewed  parhir 
walls  a  few  ponderous  chains  still  remained  ;  in 
the  rusty  grate  were  some  i)iece6  of  stick  and 
twigs  that  had  been  verdant  branches  once  upon 
a  time  ;  a  tattered  carpet,  colorless  as  dust,  cover- 
ed the  middle  of  the  floor.     The  door  of  one  of 


HAWKSVIEW.  35 

tlie  rooms  stood  wide  open,  and  beyond  it  tlioy 
could  see  the  angle  of  a  staircase,  with  a  ray  of 
moated  sunshine  glancing  from  step  to  step.  Up- 
on the  keystone  of  the  porch  there  was  the  date 
1694,  and  under  it  an  awkwardly  carved  present- 
ment of  a  serpent  curved  into  a  ring.  This  de- 
vice had  also  been  wrought  upon  the  coping  of 
the  windows,  upon  each  peak  of  the  gable  and 
every  prominent  part  of  the  building. 

"  It  is  ver}'-  dreary,  this  old  house  Roger ;  I 
should  not  like  to  live  here ;"  said  Agnes,  shiver- 
ing. She  was  glad  to  turn  from  its  decaying 
grimness  to  the  terrace,  where  Eli,  having  ejected 
the  donkeys,  was  taking  his  fill  of  the  prosj)ect. 
Strange  to  say  it  did  not  remind  him  of  anything 
grander  or  lovelier  than  he  liad  seen  abroad.  It 
was  simply  an  English  landscape,  green  and  pur- 
ple, rich  and  sunny,  with  a  pale  sky  over  it  yel- 
lowing toward  sunset.  On  this  terrace  grew  the 
finest  cedars  and  yews  in  Astondale;  and  not 
they  only,  the  nettle,  bindweed,  and  rank  grass 
grew  there,  too,  in  wild  luxuriance,  entangling  the 
shrubs  and  choking  the  few  flowers  that  still  strug- 
gled to  bud  and  blossom  in  this  untended  wilder- 
ness. The  ivy  had  made  a  bower  of  the  lover's  seat, 
by  festooning  its  sprays  from  the  branches  of  a  mag- 
nificent brown  beach  behind  it.  On  the  smooth 
bole  of  this  tree  two  names  were  cut,  "  Marma- 


36  IIAMKSVILW. 

dnkc  and  Clara,"  encircled,  by  the  serpent  em- 
blem of  eternity — strange  use  lor  such  device! 
The  wounded  bark  in  healing  had  made  both  the 
names  and  their  bordure  less  distinct;  but  they 
M'ould  probably  outlast  the  lives,  as  they  had  al- 
ready outlasted  the  love  of  those  there  commem- 
orated. Agnes  refused  to  rest  herself  in  this  ill- 
omened  place  ;  but  straying  further  along  the 
terrace,  she  came  to  a  tree  that  had  been  uproot- 
ed in  a  storm  of  some  bye-past  ■winter,  and  here 
sat  duwn  with  Roger  beside  her,  and  Eli  hov- 
ering restlessly  about  to  and  fro,  rather  afraid 
that  it  might  be  damp.  From  this  point  the  eye 
took  in  the  full  range  of  the  valley,  sweeping  east- 
^•ard  over  the  open  country,  round  by  the  barren 
northern  ridges  to  the  hazy  grey  of  the  western 
hills,  beyond  which  were  numerous  little  valleys 
as  beautiful  as  they  were  secluded. 

"  When  I  leave  you  I  will  start  on  a  pedestrian 
tour  up  there,"  said  Eli,  pointing  in  a  north-west- 
erly direction  with  his  staff,  wliicli  he  had  brought 
to  help  him  up  the  liill ;  it  looks  like  wild  un- 
Bophisticatcd  nature,  and  autumn  is  the  finest  time 
for  it.  Koger,  old  fellow,  do  you  remember  our 
tramp  into  Argyleshire  ?" 

Of  course,  Roger  remembered  it  with  all  its 
difficulties  of  bed  and  board,  and  would  be  glad 
tu  do  it  again. 


HAWKSVIEW.  37 

.  Agnes  did  not  seem  to  find  the  wish  at  all  ex- 
travagant. "  If  it  had  not  been  that  we  are  but 
just  come  to  Boscombe,  you  might  have  taken  a 
month's  holiday  to  go  with  Mr.  Burton  now,"  said 
she,  quite  naturally.  Now  that  she  would  have 
liked  his  leaving  her  (that  had  never  happened 
yet),  but  that  she  would  not  have  him  feel  his 
freedom  or  pleasure  curtailed  by  her.  Eli  said 
liis  friend  began  to  wear  the  look  of  a  man  who 
was  pledged  to  public  conveyances  henceforward 
— at  which  they  all  laughed  ;  though  Roger  de- 
clared himself  good  for  a  walking  tour  for  many 
a  year  to  come  yet. 

In  his  peregrinations  backward  and  forward, 
Eli  twice  or  thrice  struck  his  foot  accidentally 
against  a  projecting  bulk  of  stone,  which  was  half 
buried  in  the  purple-flowered  ground  ivy  that 
overran  at  its  own  wild  will  footpath,  bank,  and 
border  alike. 

Stooping  down  to  pluck  a  bit  of  the  plant, 
he  tore  away  the  whole  mass,  and  laid  bare 
the  surface  of  what  in  form  was  not  unlike 
the  headstone  of  a  grave.  All  the  creeping 
things  wdiose  shelter  had  been  thus  rudely  de- 
stroyed made  haste  to  hide  themselves  out  of 
sight  in  its  crevices ;  some  getting  into  the  ring 
of  the  symbolical  serpent  which  was  here  more 
regularly  sculptured,  others-trying  to  bury  them- 


38  HAWKSVIEW. 

Belves  in  the  old  Gennan  characters  in  which  the 
following  legend  had  been  cut : — 

"  Tcsccy  of  Hawksview  caused  mc  mak ; 

Come  weel,  come  woe,  none  other  me  tak ; 

Honor  bind  I.     Faitli  keep  I. 

Hawksview  by  Moate. 

None  base-bom,  none  brag:j!:art,  none  knave, 

Sal  be  my  Lorde  of  this  bludc ; 

None  but  goode  Knyghtes  and  trew." 

Before  Eli  had  deciphered  the  last  two  lines, 
which  were  almost  illegible,  Roger  and  Agnes 
came  to  see  what  he  was  pottering  over  with  his 
nose  80  near  the  ground.  He  read  the  inscription 
aloud,  and  Agnes,  charmed  with  the  discovery, 
though  it  did  not  elucidate  the  story  of  the  haunt- 
ed Imnsein  any  measure,  would  have  it  co})ied  in- 
to ItOger's  note  book,  that  she  might  interpret  it 
at  her  leisure.  This  incident  set  them  oft'  talking 
about  the  curious  legends  and  prophecies  that 
attach  to  certain  of  the  ancient  families  in  this 
kingdouj. 

linger  had  a  story  of  a  Lady  Monica  or  Mona 
dq  Bobun,  who  had  followed  her  husband  in  a 
groom's  dress  to  the  wars  against  the  Saracens, 
and  had  been  killed  mImIc  interposing  her  own 
body  to  save  him  from  slaughter.  This  faithful 
lady  was  still  said  t<j  keep  a  Bj>ecial  watch  over 
the  soldiers  <jf  that  house ;  and,  certainly,  many 


•  HAWKSVEEW.  39 

of  tliem  as  was  on  record  had  made  marvelous 
escapes  from  the  swords  of  their  enemies,  by  some 
invisible  shield  being  interposed  between  them. 
Then  Eli  Burton,  who  was  tlioroughly  imbued 
W'ith  the  romance  of  mediaeval  history,  involved 
liimself  in  a  monkish  legend,  full  of  odd  Latin 
scraps  which  Agnes  could  not  understand  ;  and 
so  she  had  time  to  observe  that  the  clouds,  which 
had  hitherto  been  light  and  dispersed,  were  now 
driving  up  into  thick,  lurid  banks,  and  gathering 
stormily  about  the  hills.  She  made  Roger  ob- 
serve also  this  threatening  aspect  of  the  weather, 
and  he  immediately  proposed  a  start  homeward  ; 
but  Eli  lost  so  much  time,  first  in  finisliing  his 
story,  and  then  in  a  bootless  endeavor  to  secure 
the  gate  against  the  future  inroads  of  vagrant  don- 
keys, that  while  descending  the  hill  they  were 
overtaken  by  a  violent  rain  and  thunder-storm. 
When  they  had  gone  about  half-way  they  encoun- 
tered a  man  on  horseback,  picking  his  road  care- 
fully amongst  the  large  loose  stones  that  encum- 
bered the  lane,  and  which  w^ould  have  made  in- 
cautious-riding dangerous.  He  was  protected 
from  the  wet  by  a  waterproof  riding  coat,  and 
wore  a  broad  felt  hat  flapped  down  over  his  brow. 
He  was  a  large-made,  fine-looking  person,  with 
something  of  a  foreign  air ;  a  dark  beard  clothed 
his  cheeks  and  chin,  and  his  keen  eyes  glanced 


40  UAWKSVIEW. 

restlessly  hither  and  thither  as  he  rode  forward. 
Agnes  could  not  resist  turning  around  when  they 
had  passed  hiui,  to  see  which  way  he  took — 
M-hether  up  to  llawksview,  or  over  tlie  hill  to 
Langwith  ;  but  a  clump  of  trees  intervening,  her 
curiosity  was  not  gratitied.  At  the  beginning  of 
Bosconibe  lane  there  was  a  cattle-shed,  the  door 
of  which  stood  open  ;  the  place  being  empty,  and 
as  the  rain,  mingled  with  hail,  continued  to 
})elt  furiously,  Eli  Burton  proposed  that  tliey 
should  take  refuge  there  until  the  storm  had  abat- 
ed. Agnes  stayed  in  the  doorway  watching  the 
pale  refts  in  the  clouds  for  some  sign  of  the  weath- 
er clearing;  while  Roger  and  Eli  talked  scientifi- 
cally of  theories  of  storms,  bringing  in  illustra- 
tions of  their  own  experience  amongst  the  Scot- 
tish hills,  the  high  Alps,  and  the  fiords  of  Nor- 
way. Eli  even  went  several  days'  journey  into 
the  desert,  and  was  in  the  midst  of  an  eloquent 
description  of  thesimoom,  when  Agnes  exclaimed, 
''  That  man  is  coming  back,  Roger  !  he  must  have 
been  to  llawksview." 

The  stranger  rode  by  the  shed  at  a  foot-pace, 
without  ajtparently  observing  that  any  one  was 
blu'ltering  there,  lie  lifted  off  his  hat  to  wi]>e  his 
brow  as  he  jia^sed ;  and  Agnes  thought  she  had 
never  seen  a  face  at  once  so  handsome  and  so  un- 
pleasing.     She  asked  who  could  he  be  ?  and  Rog- 


HAWKSYIEW.  41 

er,  with  an  arcli  laugh,  suggested  "  the  Manna- 
duke  of  the  beech-tree  inscription — the  master  of 
Hawksview  in  the  flesh." 

"  If  so,  he  must  have  fallen  on  evil  days,"  re- 
marked Eli.  "  He  rides  a  sony  horse,  and  trav- 
els without  much  baggage.  You  saw  the  shabby 
little  valise  strapped  behind  him." 

"  Yes,"  said  Agnes,  who  inclined  to  believe 
Roger's  suggestion ;  "  but  he  has  not  fallen  on 
worse  days  than  he  deserves." 

"Perhaps  we  may  be  wronging  the  poor  man ; 
he  is  just  as  likely  to  be  an  author  or  an  artist  out 
on  a  sketching  tour,"  said  Eli.  "  Hawksview  has 
attractions  for  the  like." 

"  But  they  generally  go  a-foot,"  persisted  Roger. 
"  I  am  disposed  to  think  he  is  the '  fause  loon'  of  our 
Boscombe  gossips'  stories.  If  Osythe  Dobbie  saw 
him  ride  by  her  door  she  is  sure  to  remember  him." 

"  There  is  a  fine  gleam  now,  let  us  go  home 
quickly,"  said  Agnes  ;  and  to  settle  the  question, 
let  us  ask  the  old  woman  as  we  pass." 

Osythe  Dobbie's  cottage  was  round  a  curve  in 
the  lane,  and  as  they  came  within  view  of  it,  they 
saw  that  the  stranger  had  pulled  up  and  was 
talking  to  the  dame  at  the  door.  He  rode  for- 
ward, however,  before  they  reached  it ;  and  Osythe 
stood  gazing  after  him  in  a  state  of  profound  be- 
wilderment. 


42  iiAWKj^vrr.w. 

"Lord  save  us!  "NVlia'd  lia'  thowt  to  see  him 
i'  t'  country  again?"  said  slic,  pointing  to  the 
retreating  figure.  "  Parson,  yon's  t'  black  Lord 
o'  Hawksvicw  that  I  ha'  telTt  you  on."  Agnes 
heard  the  announcement  without  surprise.  The 
grand,  renuirkuble  figure  o\'  the  stranger,  and  his 
sardonic  countenance,  agreed  with  his  history  as 
the  gossips  tokl  it. 

"  Indeed,  Os^'the  !  and  wliat  brings  liim  here 
again  ?"  asked  Roger,  betraying  as  much  interest 
as  Agnes. 

"  Deil  knaws!  nae  good,  Til  be  boun'.  I 
asked  liim  after  liis  bonnie  lady  an'  the  lile  bairn 
I  tended,  an'  he  just  showed  his  white  teeth  an' 
girned  at  me;  an'  he  wadna'  say  it"  they  was 
living  or  dead." 

"Was  tliat  poor  baby  a  bo}-  or  a  girl?"  in- 
quired Agnes,  with  earnestness. 

"  It  was  a  lad  bairn — as  fine  a  lad  bairn  as 
ever  cam'  into  a  warld  where  he  wasn't  wanted. 
His  mother  gave  him  Marmaduke  to  his  name, 
and  old  Parson  Lowndes,  that's  been  dead  an' 
gane  this  ten  year,  christened  him.  I  was  there 
mysel'." 

"Marmaduke!     Was  that  his  father's  name?" 

"  Yes.  Captain  Marmaduke  Vesce}'  —  yon 
man  that's. just  rode  by.  An'  she  was  Clara; 
as  pretty  a  lady  as  ever  my  eyes  beheld,  she  was. 


HAWKSVIEW.  43 

Her  flesh  was  as  white  as  milk,  wi'  just  a  tint  a 
red  in  her  cheeks,  lips  like  daisies,  an'  hair  like 
line  gold.  Oh !  she  was  right  bonnie,  she  was ! 
I  could  tell  you  a  deal  ahont  her,  pnir  lassie  ;  but 
the  parson's  on  the  move." 

"Was  she  his  wife?"  said  Agnes,  in  an  eager, 
low  voice. 

"  I  canna'  just  say — she  thowt  so.  But  I  fancy 
maybe  she  was  not,"  replied  the  old  woman, 
gravely  shaking  her  head. 

"  Come,  Agnes,  we  must  proceed,  or  we  shall 
have  the  storm  overtaking  us  again."  Roger 
here  interposed,  and  bidding  Osythe  good  even- 
ing, he  drew  his  wife's  arm  through  his  own,  and 
walked  rapidly  forward  until  they  came  up  with 
Eli  Burton,  who  was  about  fifty  yards  in  ad- 
vance. The  rain  held  off  until  they  neared  the 
village,  and  then  recommenced  in  heavy  single 
drops,  which  soon  increased  to  a  pattering 
shower.  They  had  to  pass  the  little  inn;  and 
just  as  they  did  so,  the  stranger,  who  had  been 
holding  a  parley  with  the  landlord  at  the  door, 
dismounted,  and  went  in,  while  his  jaded  horse 
was  led  round  to  the  stable,  from  which  it  ap- 
peared that  Boscombe  was  that  night  to  be 
honored  by  the  presence  of  the  Black  Lord  of 
Hawksview.  • 


44  IIAWKSVIEW 


CHAPTER  Y. 

The  thunderstorm  presently  passed  over  alto- 
gether, and  was  sijcceeded  by  a  gentle,  contin- 
uous rain.  It  was  still  a  very  sultry  evening, 
however ;  and  al'ter  Jenny  had  taken  out  the  tea, 
Agnes,  instead  of  bringing  forth  her  work-basket 
and  embroidery,  stayed  by  the  open  drawing- 
room  window,  breathing  the  rich  jasmin  scent 
which  the  damp  air  bronglit  out  more  delicons- 
ly,  while  Iloger  and  Eli  talked  of  passing  public 
events,  in  their  respective  easy-chairs ;  for  al- 
ready Eli  had  an  especial  chair  and  corner  that 
went  b}'  his  name.  By  and  bye  another  odor, 
Jiiore  ])owerful  and  more  familiar  than  the 
jasmin  pervaded  the  atmos])hcre — the  odor  of  a 
fine  cigar;  and  looking  in  the  direction  whence 
the  wind  wafted  it,  Agnes  saw  the  stranger  cross- 
ing the  churchyard.  He  stood  for  severid  min- 
utes gazing  ai>])arcntly  away  over  the  country 
toward  Ilawksvicw,  until  he  had  linished  his 
cigar,  then  flinging  tlic  smouldering  end  amongst 


HAWKSVIEW.  45 

the  shrubs,  he  came  through  the  rectorj-gate 
into  the  ehn-tree  walk,  as  if  making  for  the 
house.  Agnes  immediately  communicated  the 
fact  to  her  husband  ;  and  before  the  words  were 
Mell  out  of  her  lips,  the  door-bell  rang  noisily, 
and  an  imperative  voice  was  heard  to  ask,  "Is 
Mr.  Bohun  at  home  ?"  Jenny  made  no  demur, 
but  admitted  the  visitor  at  once. 

"Mr.  Bohun,  1  presume?"  said  he,  bowing 
courteously  to  Roger,  who  had  risen  to  receive 
liim  as  he  entered,  and  then  glancing  with 
stealthy  swiftness  at  Agnes  and  Eli.  Roger  did 
not  attempt  any  introduction,  but  offered  him  ^a 
chair,  of  which,  however,  he  would  not  avail 
himself,  and  both  remained  standing  while  the 
object  of  the  visit  was  explained.  "  I  must  apol- 
ogise for  my  unseasonable  intrusion,"  said  Cap- 
tain Vescey,  "  but  my  business  is  urgent.  Can 
you  furnish  me  with  a  copy  of  my  son's  bap- 
tismal register  to-night  ?" 

At  Boscombe  the  registers  were  kept  in  an 
iron  chest  in  the  vestry ;  and  the  clerk,  who  lived 
at  the  top  of  the  village,  had  the  custody  of  the 
church-door  key.  Roger  mentioned  this,  and 
was  about  to  send  Jenny  for  it,  when  the  stranger 
volunteered  to  go  himself;  so  the  curate,  with  a 
sigh  of  reluctance — for  no  man  likes'  his  quiet 
evening  of  leisure  to  be  broken  in  upon — went  to 


46  IIAWKSVIEW. 

liit>  study  tor  the  key  of  the  rc^^ister  cliest,  and 
aocoimpauied  him.  As  soon  as  they  were  in  the 
o}»en  air,  Captain  Vescey  continued  his  explana- 
liuns:  "  Tlie  baptism  in  question  took  place 
ei'.rly  in  August,  in  tlie  year  'thirty,"  said  he. 
"The  cliild  was  baptised  by  tlie  late  rector,  Mr. 
Lowndes,  and  received  the  name  of  Marnia- 
duke." 

"There  will  be  no  difficulty  in  finding  the  reg- 
ister since  you  poawiss  the  date,"  replied  Roger. 

"  Mr.  Lowndes  is  dead,  and  so  my  most  relia- 
ble clue  is  lost;"  added  the  Captain,  who  seemed 
a  man  of  few  reserves.  "  lie  was  the  only  per- 
son in  whom  Clara  wjis  likely  to  confide.  She 
Mas  a  weak  fuol  I"  Roger  fancied  he  must  be 
uttering  his  thoughts  aloud,  and  essayed  an  inter- 
ruption of  the  unwitting  confidence;  V)ut  his 
hingular  companion  continued  deliberately,  and 
ia  a  slightly  indignant  tune,  ''A  very  weak  foul, 
ur  there  wuuld  never  have  occurred  this  hitch. 
You  see,  Mr.  Bohun,  when  I  was  young  and  hul- 
licaded,  I  made  a  hasty  Scotch  marriage,  and« 
brought  Clara  to  that  old  barrack  on  Ilawksview. 
Wasn't  it  iiatural  that  I  should  tire  uf  it  after  a 
while  ?  1  did  tire  of  it,  and  I  left  it.  I  have  not 
seen  it  from  that  day  to  this;  but  if  she  had  had 
patience  to  wait,  I  might  have  come  back  earlier. 
Jiut  she  liad  not.     She  wrote  me  a  flight  of  vehe- 


HAWKSVIEW.  47 

ment  letters  that  I  was  too  busy  to  answer ;  so 
she  took  it  into  her  head  that  I  had  deserted  her, 
and  meant  to  disavow  the  marriage,  of  which  she 
held  abundant  proofs;  and  Avhen  the  child  was 
born  slie  packed  up,  and  went  off  with  him  and 
her  old  nurse,  heaven  knows  where." 

"It  is  a  deplorable  story.  The  poor  lady 
seems  much  to  be  pitied,"  said  Roger,  to  fill  up 
an  awkward  pause. 

"  And  am  not  I  also  to  be  pjtied,  who  run  the 
risk  of  losing  a  magnificent  estate  through  her 
unfaithful  impatience!"  exclaimed  Captain  Yes- 
cey.  "  Here  is  her  own  brother,  the  very  first  in 
the  plot  to  assassinate  her  reputation  by  raising  a 
question  as  to  the  validity  of  our  marriage.  She 
notifies  to  me  the  birth  and  baptism  of  our  child, 
and  then  goes  away  and  hides  him  and  herself 
in  some  misjgrable  seclusion.  She  was  my  wife, 
she  k?i€io  herself  to  be  my  wife ;  ought  she  not 
then,  as  in  duty  bound,  to  have  remained  where 
I  had  placed  her?  She  has  periled  her  son's 
inheritance  by  her  precipitate  folly,  and  her 
own  honor  and  mine,  too.  What  was  there 
to  prevent  her  living  humbly  at  Ilawksview, 
and  bringing  up  the  child  respectably  as  I  de- 
sired ?  It  was  imj>ossible  for  me  to  acknowl- 
edge our  marriage  j  list  then;  but  it  is  surely  a 
very   poor  kind  of  love  that  cannot   support  a 


48  HAWKSVIEW. 

lew  cold  looks  and  hard  words  for  the  sake  of 
its  object  I" 

Ilo^er  Boliun  pressed  his  lips  together  to  keep 
in  his  stern  disgust  at  this  wicked  and  unreasoning 
selfishness. 

"  I  want  to  collect  the  witnesses  of  the  birth 
and  baptism  of  this  child,"  Captain  Vescc}^  went 
on.  "  1  want  anybody  who  can  furnish  informa- 
tion as  to  where  his  mother  conveyed  him,  when 
she  left  Ilawksvie^,  and  whether  either  survives. 
Clara  was  as  proud  as  Lucifer,  and  would  retain 
the  certificates  of  her  marriage  like  dear  life, 
though  she  was  bound  by  an  oatli  never  to  reveal 
them  without  my  leave;  and  if  she  diet!,  which 
1  have'reasuns  for  thinking  slie  did,  she  would 
li-ave  them  as  a  sacred  deposit  for  her  son,  with 
-  »me  person  in  whom  she  had  confidence — Janet 
{Saunders,  perhaps  ;  but  I  incline  to  ^Jiink  it  might 
be  Mr.  Lowndes."' 

When  they  reached  the  clerk's  cottage,  they 
found  the  old  man  just  retiring  to  bed;  but  the 
prospect  of  an  ample  fee  caused  him  to  light  his 
lantern  and  lead  the  way  to  the  church  with 
alacrit}'.  It  was  now  fallen  dark,  and  as  they 
entered  the  edifice  the  stranger's  restless  eyes 
Fearched  the  gloom  impatiently.  The  register 
being  laid  on  the  vestry  tal>le  the  clerk  oj^ened 
his  lantern,  and  Captain  Vesccy  looked  eagerly 


HAWKSVIJiW.  49 

from  page  to  page  until  he  lit  upon  the  entry 
he  sought.  The  baptism  was  registered  as  that 
of  the  son  of  Marmaduke  Yescey  and  Clara  his 
wife.  lioger  immediately  made  the  required  copy, 
und  handed  it  to  the  stranger,  saying,  "  Osythe 
Dobbie,  you  know — the  second  witness — is  the 
parish  clerk.    You  remember  this  baptism,  John  ?" 

"  O,  yes,  sir,  an'  good  need  too,"  replied  the 
official  significantly.  "  It  was  long  talked  on  by 
t'  auld  rector." 

Captain  Yescey  would  have  liked  to  question 
him  further,  and  sat  down  on  the  chest  for  the 
purpose ;  but  Koger  was  growing  a  little  impa- 
tient, and  closing  the  register  he  bade  John  restore 
it  to  its  place.  "  Can  I  oblige  you  in  anything 
else,  Captain  Yescey  ?"  he  asked,  stepping  into 
tlie  chancel.  The  captain  followed  ;  and  while 
John  was  Jacking  the  vestry  door,  he  took  the 
lantern,  and  read  some  of  the  inscriptions  on 
the  monumental  tablets,  which  were  chiefly  tliose 
of  his  own  family.  He  diJ  not  appear  to  have 
heard  the  curate's  question;  and  without  repeat- 
ing it,  Koger  walked  on  to  the  porch,  and  thence 
into  the  churchyard,  where  ho  waited  until  the 
stranger  and  old  John  rejoined  him. 

"'I  feel  convinced  from  this,"  said  Captain 
Yescey,  showing  the  copy  of  the  register,  which 
he  still   lield  in  his  hand,  "  tliat  Chira  did  confide 


50  JIAWKsVlhW. 

ill  Mr,  Lowmk'B.  lie  iiiiL-^t  liavc  lel't  soine  one 
behind  him ;  wlio  would  get  his  letters  and  his 
papers  at  liis  death  V 

'*  Indeed,  I  cannot  tell  you.  I  am  hut  newly 
arrived  in  the  j)arish.  John  is  more  likely  to 
know  than  any  one  else." 

But  John,  i)erhaps  with  an  eye  to  ulterior 
pecuniary  profit,  was  suddenly  attacke4  with  deaf- 
ness and  defective  memory.  "Parson  Lowndes 
might  ha' left  kin;  he  could  na'  tell  just  then; 
his  memory  whiles  failed  him."  Captain  Vcscey 
said  no  more,  hut  paced  slowly  across  tlie  church- 
yard beside  Roger,  until  they  came  to  the  gate. 
John  hobbled  after  in  haste,  trembling  for  liis 
lee,  whicli  did  not  appear  to  be  forthcoming  so 
readily  as  was  desirable.  "Here's  Miss  Sage 
Booties,"  cried  he,  with  prompt  revival  of  his 
<l'»rmant  faculties.  "  She  wi>s  the  Parson's  cousin ; 
but  they  were  aye  at  daggers  drawn." 

Captain  Yescey  turned  shar])ly  round  to  listen  ; 
but  John  had  said  his  say  for  this  time,  and  was 
again  nnite.  "The  fact  is,  you  know  nothing 
for  a  certainty,  and  can  only  offer  conjectures  !" 
cried  he,  petulantly,  at  this  tantalizing  silence. 
"  I  fnust  try  Osythe  Dobbie  again.  She  was  more 
about  Ilawksview  than  any  one  else." 

"  Osythe  oft  talks  of  that  poor  little  bairn  and 
his   mother,  and    wonders   where  they  went   to 


.       IIAWKSVIKW.  51 

when  they  left  Ha%vl\sview,''  said  the  clerk, 
insidiously  cropping  this  forlorn  hope.  There 
was  a  short  pause,  during  which  Roger  opened 
the  gate  into  the  rectorj  garden  and  passed 
through;  Captain  Yescey  was  folloAving  hitn 
absently,  when  John  recalled  him  to  himself  by 
intimating  that  the  other  gate  went  his  way, 
"  One  more  question,  and  I  will  cease  troubling 
you  to-niglit,  Mr.  Boliun.  Has  any  one  been 
brought  from  a  distance  for  interment  in  this 
church  during  the  last  ten  years  ?"  asked  he. 

"  I  must  again  refer  you  to  John's  memory^ ;  or, 
if  it  will  be  more  satisfactory,  we  can  go  over  the 
register  of  burials  for  that  period  to-morrow  morn- 
ing."  John  remembered  two  funerals  of  strange 
folk ;  but  whether  they  were  men  or  women  ho 
could  not  I'ightlings  say.  The  register  M'ould  tell 
best,  for  there  were  no  stones  to  the  graves. 

"  Then  we  will  go  over  the  register  as  you 
propose,  Mr.  Bohun,"  said  Captain  Yescey. 
"  Clara  once  said  she  should  like  to  be  buried 
here;  and  as  our  vault  is  in  the  church,  she  may 
have  liad  a  fancy  to  be  laid  in  it." 

"Yescey  vault  has  not  been  opened  in  my 
time;  ihat  I  do  know,"  declared  the  clerk,  ex- 
plicitly. "  T'  last  of  t'  family,  your  father — auld 
Duke,  as  we  ca'ed  him  i'  t'  dale — was  drowned  at 
sea,  I've  heard."     Captain  Yescey  made  him  no 


52  IIAWKSMKW. 

answer;  but  thankiiiir  the  curate  for  liis  civility, 
took  Lis  way  back  to  the  inn,  the  unlee'd  John 
tblloM'ino;  close  upon  his  heels, 

AVlicn  Roger  re-entered  the  rectory  drawing- 
room,  he  was  immediately  assailed  by  Agnes  with 
question  after  question,  to  only  one  of  wliich  could 
he  return  a  i)erfectly  satisfactory  answer  ;  namely, 
that  the  forsaken  lady  of  Ilawksviewaras  Captain 
Yescey's  wife ;  and  that  his  visit  to  Boscombe 
was  for  the  pur^^ose  of  hunting  up  evidence  of 
iier  present  place  of  concealment  if  she  were 
living,  or  of  her  death  if  she  were  dead.  Roofer 
could  not  thrill  her  fe'elings  by  any  dramatic 
story  of  the  stranger,  because  he  was  so  niatter- 
of-fact,  bad,  and  selfish — a  man  of  the  world, 
worldly,  not  a  hero  of  romance ;  but  h^did  say 
that  what  he  had  seen  of  him  he  disliked.  "  Yes, 
intuitively,  Roger,  I  have  faith  in  those  anti- 
])athie6  which  look  at  first  sight  unreasonable," 
oricd  Agnes,  with  energy.  "  That  man  gave 
me  a  thrill  of  repulsion.  Whenever  I  conceive 
such  a  dislike,  ar.d  am  afterward  won  over  to  a 
better  opinion,  I  am  sure  to  come  back,  sooner  or 
later,  to  my  first  way  of  thinking.  It  is  an  instinct 
such  as  children  and  animals  iiave." 

"  You  condemn  Captain  Yescey  on  instinct, 
then  ?"  asked  Eli  Uiirt(.n. 

"  And  on  evidence,  tov.     Is  lie  not  a  bad  man  ? 


IIAAVKSVIKW.  53 

Look  at  his  countenance,  and  think  of  that  young 
creature  left  alone  at  Hawksview !"  replied  Agnes, 
flushing  with  indignant  pity.  "  And  the  poor 
little  baby  !  O  !  1  am  sure  he  is  all  wickedness  ; 
and  I  do  hope  it  may  never  fall  into  his  hands. 
It  would  be  far  better  brought  up  as  a  laborer's 
child."  Since  Agnes  had  learnt  that  her  kind 
womanly  sympathies  might  be  enlisted  in  the 
cause  of  a  virtuous  wife,  instead  of  a  hapless 
light-o'-love,  she  was  more  open  and  vehement 
in  the  expression  of  her  detestation  for  Captain 
Yescey.  She  was  never  apathetic  ;  what  she  felt 
strongly,  she  showed  forcibly  and  fearlessly.  ' 

While  they  were  still  talking  about  the  stranger, 
he  rode  by  at  a  gallop.  He  was  returning  to 
Hawksview^  after  having  supped  at  the  inn  ;  but 
why  he  went  thither  nobody  could  even  con- 
jecture. Osytlie  Dobbie,  who  watched  him  on 
liis  w^ay,  told  it  in  the  village,  with  ghostly  ampli- 
fications, that  he  stayed  there  all  night,  and  only 
came  back  to  tlie  inn  to  breakfast.  He  was  not 
alone  that  niglit,  she  asserted ;  a  slim  white 
figure,  with  long  yellow  liair,  dripping  like  a 
drowned  woman's,  ran  by  him  in  the  lane,  cling- 
ing to  his  bridle  ;  he  could  not  shake  it  off,  and 
the  same  shadowy  figure  went  in  with  him  at  the 
broken  gate.  Osythe  said  she  heard  him  cursing 
and  swearing  at  the  thing  horribly  ;  but  it  would 


54  HAWKSVIKW. 

not  quit  its  hokl,  and  wlicu  lie  got  off  his  h 
at  the  door,  it  cast  its  arms  about  his  neck  and 
kissed  him  on  the  mouth,  as  with  a  perfect  aban- 
don of  jo}'.  Half  Bosconibe  believed  this  fable  ; 
and  Agnes  said,  with  a  shudder,  "  Ah !  he  de- 
sef  ves  to  be  haunted !"  while  Eli  Burton  remarked 
that  Osythe  was  a  charmingly  imaginative  old 
woman,  and  he  must  have  some  talk  with  lier. 
"  But  what  will  become  of  lier  rejiutation  as 
ghost-seer  if  the  lost  wife  should  turn  out  even- 
tualy  to  be  alive  ?"  suggested  he. 


HAWKSVIIOW. 


CHAPTER  YI. 

The  rich  livino-  of  Boscombe-Mao;na  was  held  at 
this  period  by  the  Reverend  Augustus  Blaydes,  a 
gentleman  who  did  all  his  duties  by  deputy, 
whicli,  if  popular  report  was  to  be  believed,  was 
quite  as  well  or  even  better  than  if  he  liad  at- 
tempted to  do  them  in  person.  He  resided  at 
Florence,  and  received  annually  the  snm  of  eight 
hundred  and  fifty  pounds  for  nominating  a  curate 
to  look  after  the  souls  of  Boscombe,  Moat,  and 
AVho'd-ha-thowt-it — a  cluster  of  cottages  which 
took  their  name  from  having  been  built  in  one  of 
the  most  out-of-the-way  and  unwholesome  locali- 
ties that  could  possibly  ]iave  been  devised. 

Under  the  prolonged  regency  of  curates  which 
had  i^receded  Roger  Bohim's  coming,  the  parish 
had  fallen  into  a  state  of  anarchy,  where  confu- 
sion was  worse  confounded  by  the  perpetual  in- 
terference of  a  self-elected,  spontaneously-acting, 
female  churchwarden.  Miss  Sage  Booties  by  name, 
a  maiden  lady  of  independent  property,  wlio  lived 


5G  IIA-\VKSVIEAV. 

at  the  Old  Moat  House.  Slie  liad  been  a  crook 
in  tlie  lot  of  every  curate  'svho  had  come  to  Bos- 
combe  during  the  last  ten  3'ears,  and  had  gener- 
ally succeeded  in  driving  them  from  their  post 
before  they  had  held  it  twelve  months.  The 
Keverend  Augustus  Blaydes  would  have  been  glad 
to  exterminate  her — none  the  less  glad,  perhaps, 
because  she  was  his  aunt,  and  must  leave  her 
money  to  somebody.  Over  the  poor  she  tyran- 
nized M'itli  sheaves  of  violent  tracts  of  her  own 
inditing,  and  a  sort  of  conjurer's  bottle  of  univer- 
sal specific,  whence  streamed,  with  fatal  iluency, 
phj'sic  for  every  ill  to  which  flesh  is  heir.  "Who- 
ever refused  to  read  her  good  little  books,  or  to 
swallow  doses  of  Globb's  renovator,  fell  under  the 
ban  of  her  severest  displeasure.  Her  plump, 
sanctimonious poiTlcs,  to  which  a  heterodox  miner 
liad  given  the  sobriquets  of  Amen  and  Hallelujah, 
stopped  no  more  with  eleemosynary  half-crowns 
at  such  excommunicated  doors,  nor  yet  with  doles 
of  welcome  Christmas  flannel.  Her  meagre  skirts 
swept  in  charitable  domiciliary  visits  over  other 
thresholds  ;  whilst  violenfc  denunciation  pursued 
the  defender  even  as  it  were  within  the  shadow 
of  the  church ;  for  he  or  she  was  always  complained 
of  to  the  curate  for  the  time  being,  and  threaten- 
ed with  vague  si)iritual  penalties  that  were  never, 
to  anybody's  knowledge,  carried  into  eff'ect.     Miss 


IIAWKSVIEW.  57 

Sage  Booties  had  been  born  with  a  mission,  which 
mission  was,  the  perfectibility  of  human  nature — 
poor  human  nature  especially — and  she  toiled  at 
it  without  ceasing.  She  meddled  with  every- 
thing; and  whatever  she  meddled  with,  she  mar- 
red. She  dictated  to  Squire  Brough  about  the 
division  of  the  Canaan  at  Moat.  She  first  built 
"VVho'd-ha'-thowt-it,  and  then  undertook  the  con- 
version of  its  inhabitants  by  means  of  the  tracts 
afore-mentioned,  thereby  driving  them  for  more 
comfortable  doctrine  to  the  little  Bethel  of  Lang- 
with-in-the-dale.  She  sent  tiny  cocked-hat  notes 
to  the  board  of  guardians,  to  advise  the  discontin- 
uance of  parish  pay  to  the  Widow  Glossop,  as 
a  light  character,  she  having  attended  Boothe  fair 
with  her  six  children,  and  treated  them  to  round- 
about, swing-boat,  and  nuts,  out  of  the  public 
money.  She  undertook  the  management  of  the 
clothing  club,  and  brought  the  accounts  into  inex- 
tricable confusion.  She  presided  over  the  bi-weekly 
distribution  of  soup  in  winter,  and  burnt  both  it 
and  her  own  fingers  most  grievously  therewith. 
On"  the  first  Sunday  of  Roger's  appearance  in 
the  reading  desk  at  Boscombe  church  she  arrived 
very  early,  and  wearing  her  most  critical  specta- 
cles. She  eyed  both  him  and  the  sweet  girlish 
face  in  the  rectory  pew  with  marked  disfavor 
throughout  the  service ;  and  though  Koger  gave 
3* 


58  JIAWKSVILW.  * 

a  truly  admirable  discourse  of  twcntj'-fivc  min- 
utes in  lengtli,  slic  pronounced  both  him  and  his 
wife,  in  ^he  hearing  of  lialf  the  congregation,  as 
she  left  her  pew,  "  A  pair  of  babes  in  the  wood, 
and  nothing  else." 

The  new  curate  had  the  pleasure  of  making  her 
personal  acquaintance  the  day  after.  lie  was 
sent  to  Moat  to  pray  with  a  poor  woman  who  was 
not  expected  to  live  until  the  morrow  ;  and  there, 
wrangling  over  the  patient,  who  was  suflering 
from  acute,  internal  inflammation,  he  found  the 
parish  doctor  and  his  irregular  rival.  Miss  Sage 
Booties,  on  her  own  responsibility,*  had  adminis- 
tered a  large  dose  of  Globb's  renovator  a  few 
hours  before,  and  as  the  basis  of  that  popular 
specific  was  brandy,  its  effects  on  the  sufferer  had 
been  far  from  salutary;  yet  there  the  lady  stood, 
firm  in  her  own  convictions,  and  resolved  to  sup- 
port the  reputation  of  Globb  to  the  last.  Even 
when  the  doctor,  in  fineable  language,  vowed  that 
she  should  be  indicted  for  manslaughter  if  the 
case  had  a  fatal  termination,  she  was  still  proudly 
unipoved.  Tiie  patient,  however,  recovered,  and 
Miss  Sage  Booties  ever  afterward  referred  to  her 
triumpliantly  as  a  person  whom  she  had  saved 
from  death  and  Doctor  Drake,  l>y  a  timely  and 
copious  administration  of  Globb's  llenovator. 

In  the  course  of  his  parish  rounds,  lloger  stum- 


HAWKS  VIEW.  50 

bled  perpetually  against  the  female  clmrcli-warJ- 
en's  enactments — the  real  officials  being  mere  dum 
mies,  in  abject  subservience  to  her  authority, 
while  the  schoolmaster  ran  at  her  beck  and  quaked 
at  her  frown.  This  despotism  was  too  ignomi- 
nious to  be  borne,  and  he  determined  to  put  a 
check  upon  it.  But  he  did  not  yet  know  his  an- 
tagonist. She  was  a  woman  of  inexhaustible  re- 
sources; and  no  sooner  was  she  defeated  on  one 
quarter  than  she  made  her  attack  on  another, 
more  vigorously  and  vehemently  than  before. 
Ivoger's  doctrine,  his  delivery,  his  person,  his 
dress,  his  wife,  his  child,  his  house,  his  servants, 
was  each  in  turn  the  theme  of  her  animadversions. 
She  wrote  to  her  nephew,  the  Reverend  Augustus 
Blaydes  twice  a  week,  demanding  his  immediate 
removal,  first  on  the  score  of  hfs  being  lukewarm, 
then  of  his  being  bigoted,  prelatical,  tainted  with 
divers  heresies,  and  generally  unmanageable. 

Such  was  the  formidable  single  gentlewoman 
whom  Captain  Yescey  undei'took  to  beard  in  her 
den,  in  pursuit  of  intelligence  respecting  his  wife 
and  son.  He  waited  upon  her  the  morning  after 
her  visit  to  the  rectorj^,  sent  in  liis  card,  and  asked 
a  short  interview  on  business  of  the  last  import- 
ance. The  servant  who  carried  in  his  name  to 
her  mistress  was  alarmed  at  the  angry  storm  it  ex- 
cited.    Miss  Sage  Booties  was  ordinarily  dignified 


00  nAWKSVIEW. 

even  in  licr  wratli ;  l)ut  the  old  lady  flung  down 
the  card  aud  stamped  on  it,  crying  out  in  a  shrill 
tone  which  penetrated  to  the  cars  of  the  gentle- 
man in  the  next  room,  "  Captain  Vescey,  indeed  ! 
Captain  Rascal,  Captain  Knave,  Captain  Fool, 
Capt.ain  Villain !  How  dure  he  come  on  his  busi- 
ness to  me !  He  thinks  to  get  me  to  betray  her, 
docs  he  ? — then  he  won't !  Piper,  1  shan't  see  him  !" 
Piper  picked  up  the  card,  carried  it  back  to 
the  Captain,  and  told  him  lier  mistress  could  not 
receive  him — an  intimation  which  he  met  with 
admirable  calmness ;  for  lie  had  overheard  that 
significent  sentence,  "  He  thinks  to  get  me  to  be- 
tray her,  docs  he?"  and  was  thereby  assured  tliat 
his  wife  still  lived,  and  that  her  place  of  conceal- 
ment was  known  to  at  least  one  person  in  the 
neighborhood — and  if  to  one,  why  not  to  more  ? 
The  spinster  lady,  animated  by  a  laudable  curiosi- 
ty, could  not  refrain  from  peeping  out  into  the 
hall  to  watch  the  exit  of  her  discomfited  visitor, 
and  Captain  Vescey,  4etecting  her  in  the  act  of 
esj)ial,  lifted  his  hat  with  a  derisive  courtesy, 
which  chafed  her  too  sorely  to  let  her  keep  silence. 
"  Don't  you  come  to  Moat  again,  Cai)tain  Black- 
leg!" cried  she  ;"  '•  Osythe  Dobbie  has  been  here 
to  tell  me  whom  you  arc  seeking.  1  know  no- 
thing about  your  wifr,  and  if  1  did,  I  would  not 
tell  yon!     Pijjcr,  turn  liini  out!" 


HAWKSVIEW.  01 

Piper,  being  a  timid  little  shrimp  of  a  woman, 
might  have  found  some  difficulty  in  ejecting  the 
tall  Captain,  if  he  had  not  gone  of  his  own  accord, 
which  he  did,  whistling  an  incredulous  reply  to 
the  irate  lady's  assurance  that  she  knew  nothing 
about  his  wife — at  least,  so  Miss  Sage  Booties 
understood  him.  On  leaving  the  Old  Moat 
House,  he  went  straight  to  the  rectory,  and  told 
Roger  of  his  ill  success ;  and  though  no  longer 
believing  that  his  wife  was  dead,  he  looked 
through  the  register  of  burials,  as  the  curate  had 
proposed  the  niglit  before.  He  found  no  name 
answering  to  hers ;  and  the  search  being  ended, 
as  if  there  were  an  impelling  necessity  upon  him 
to  oj^en  his  mind  to  some  one,  he  explained,  at 
length,  what  depended  on  the  issue  of  his  pursuit 
to  Roger  and  Eli  Burton,  neither  of  whom,  it 
must  be  confessed,  was  at  all  ambitious  of  his 
confidence. 

The  case  lay  in  a  nutshell.  A  wealthy  Leith 
merchant,  his  wife's  godfather,  had,  by  a  will 
made  so  long  ago  as  at  her  christening,  left  her 
his  sole  heiress.  A  handsome  landed  estate  in 
Berwickshire  was  entailed  upon  her  children,  but 
all  the  personal  property  was  left  entirely  at  her 
free  disposal.  In  case  she  should  die  unmarried, 
':he  whole  was  to  revert  to  her  brother  or  his  de- 
scendants, and  tailing  them,  to  the  public  chari- 


f)2  1IA^VKSVIK^V. 

ties  of  his  native  place.  Ko  later  will  had  been 
discovered,  though  there  was  some  suspicion  that 
one  had  existed,  ■which  had  been  made  soon  after 
her  marriage,  and  Captain  Yescey  "was  now  sel- 
fishly bent  on  authenticating  his  union  and  pro- 
ducing his  son,  as  the  indispensable  preliminariea 
to  entering  on  the  enjoj'ment  of  a  fortune,  which 
his  wildest  dreams  had  never  anticipated  as  falling 
to  his  lot.  Tiius  far  he  had  obtained  no  clue ; 
but  the  motives  that  actuated  him  were  far  too 
powerful  to  suffer  him  to  be  easily  baffled  in  his 
pursuit,  though,  after  several  days  of  unwearied 
research,  the  only  reliable  information  he  had  ob- 
tained was,  that  those  he  sought,  had  made  a 
night  flitting  of  it,  and  had  left  Iluwksviewon  foot. 


% 


IIAWKSVIEW.  63 


CHAPTER  VII. 

When  the  rumor  spread  abroad  in  the  country 
that  Captain  Yescey  was  come  to  Boscombe  in 
search  of  the  lady  whom  he  had  deserted  and  tlie 
child  she  had  borne,  it  was  not  many  people  who 
found  it  in  their  hearts  to  cry  him  "  good  sj)eed." 
In  the  course  of  a  few  days  masons,  carpenters, 
and  painters  were  at  work  at  Hawksview  to  bring 
the  place  into  habitable  condition ;  and  when 
it  thus  appeared  certain  that  Captain  Yescey 
was  about  to  take  up  his  residence  there,  specula- 
tion and  gossip  became  rife.  In  less  than  a  week 
he  had  entered  on  possession,  and  Osythe  Debbie 
was  hired  to  attend  upon  him.  In  her  new  office 
the  old  woman  grew  mysteriously  tantalizing, 
and  pursed  up  her  lips  conscientiously  when  any- 
body would  have  catechised  her  about  her  mas- 
ter's doings.  "They  were  a  nice  pair,"  said  one 
baffled  inquirer ;  "  it  was  easy  to  guess  who  would 
make  a  third  at  their  plots  and  colloguings — 
nought  good,  be  very  sure."     It  would  be  impos- 


C4  IIAWKSVIKW. 

siblc  to  cite  one  half  of  the  al>snrd  stories  t#-which 
the  strani^cr's  arrival  iravo  currenev ;  hut  after 
the  first  enthusiiism  of  wonder  and  curiosity  were 
exhausted,  lie  was  permitted  to  go  on  living  at 
Ilawksview,  without  exciting  more  than  an  occa- 
sional gpasra  of  interest. 

His  fii-st  discovery  of  importance  was  of  a  man 
who  had  assisted  in  transporting  several  packages 
from  Ilawksview  to  Bootlie,'  where  they  lay  in 
warehouse  some  weeks,  and  were  then  removed 
by  a  public  carrier,  whose  weekly  circuit  extend- 
ed from  Boothe  to  the  coast,  and  included  half-a- 
dozen  insignificant  fishing  villages,  as  well  as 
some  places  of  higher  standing.  This  second  person 
either  could  not  or  would  not  remember  anything 
that  had  happened  bolVire  the  current  year,  and 
proved  utterly  surly  and  unmanageable;  but 
Ca])tain  Yesccy  suspected  from  his  guarded  man- 
ner that  he  was  perfectly  well  informed  as  to  the 
ultimate  destination  of  the  goods  he  had  removed 
under  such  peculiar  Circumstances ;  and,  there- 
fore, having  obtained  a  knowledge  of  the  different 
towns  and  villages  the  carrier  called  at,  he  deter- 
mined on  making  a  personal  tour  of  investigation. 
AVith  a  view  to  insure  secrecy,  he  confided  his  in- 
tentions to  no  one;  but,  telling  Osythe  Dobbieto 
expect  his  return  daily  till  she  saw  him,  he  rode 
away  from  Ilawksview  one  eveniug  after  du6k, 


HAWKSVIKW,  65 

passed  |he  niglit  at  Bootlie,  and  the  next  morn- 
ing with  the  shabby  valise  strapped  behind  him 
and  the  felt  hat  flapped  down  over  his  eyes,  he 
pursued  his  journey  in  the  same  doubtful  guise  in 
which  Roger  Bohun  and  Agnes  had  first  seen 
him  riding  up  to  Ilawksview.  As  it  was  the 
tourists'  season,  and  the  line  of  country  he  had  to 
take  was  a  favorite  one  among  the  students  of  the 
picturesque,  his  somewhat  remarkable  figure  ex- 
cited little  observation,  and  he  went  on  his  way 
with  an  eager  hope  that  he  had  hold  of  the  end 
of  the  clue  which  would  lead  him,  at  length,  to 
the  retreat  of  his  wife  and  child. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  third  day  from  his 
leaving  Hawks  view,  Captain  Yescey  rode  into 
tlie  town  of  Wliitmouth.  His  horse  had  fallen 
dead  lame  ;  and  under  a  blazing  harvest  sun, 
along  a  dusty,  unsheltered,  lime  white  road,  the 
last  few  miles  of  his  journey  had  been  anything 
but  pleasant.  Under  these  circumstances,  the 
first  inn  he  came  to,  by  the  hospitable  sign  of 
the  "  Traveler's  Rest,"  looked  especially  inviting ; 
so  he  dismounted,  threw  his  rein  to  a  lad  who  was 
loitering  about  t]ie  door,  and  went  into  the  com- 
mon room  where  the  landlord  was  reading  a 
week-old  provincial  paper.  Having  ordered  a 
bottle  of  wine,  and  the  best  dinner  the  house 
afforded,  lie  lounged  on  the  wide  padded  settle, 


00  IIAWKSVIKW. 

and  smoked  out  of  the  -window  sulkily,  jtfic  liad 
thus  far  met  -with  no  sort  of  success  in  his  expedi- 
tion ;  and  though  not  exactly  disheartened,  he 
■was  extremely  out  of  humor.  Here  there  Avas 
nothing  to  distract  his  thoughts,  or  to  amuse  him, 
even, had  he  been  capable  of  amusement.  Tlie 
inn  parlor  was  buff  and  red,  like  most  other  mar- 
itime inn  parlors,  with  pictures  of  favorite  brigs 
on  the  walls,  an  immense  bow-pot  of  honeysuckle 
in  the  chimney,  and  a  pervading  odor  of  last 
night's  pipes.  The  external  prospect  was  not 
more  cheerful.  The  house  was  on  the  ascent  of 
a  steep,  roughly  paved  street,  which  was  almost 
deserted  in  the  heat  of  the  afternoon's  sun.  At 
the  open  door  of  a  cottage  opjiosite,  hung  a  cage 
full  of  singing  birds;  and  on  the  step  sat  a  child 
knitting,  with  a  dog  at  lier  feet  asleep.  Kow 
and  then  a  group  of  amphibious-looking  men,  too 
tired  to  be  noisy,  came  slou'ching  along  with  short 
])ipes  in  their  mouths,  and  iisliiiig-nets  or  creels 
slung  uver  their  shoulders  ;  and  once  a  wicker- 
cjirriage,  drawn  by  a  pair  of  donkeys,  and  con- 
taining a  whole  small  family,  went  leisurely  past. 
A  little  way  above  the  inn  was  an  old-fashioned, 
rough-cast  house,  w  ith  a  white  board  stretchiuir 
across  its  front  whieh,  in  gigantic  capitals,  inforiii- 
cd  all  whom  it  may  concern  that  batiis,  botli  hot 
and  cold,  were  to  be  had  there.    As  his  eye  caught 


IIAWKSVIEW.  67 

this    t»m23tmg    announcement,    Captain   Vescey 
heard  a  series  of    remonstrative   and  strangled 
chuckings,    as   of  a  fowl  just  impounded;  and, 
thinking  that  if  his  dinner  were  in  that  unde\"el- 
oped  stage  he  had  time  for  the  luxury  of  a  bath, 
he  sauntered  forth,  lazily  puffing  at  the  end  of  his 
cigar,  with  tlie  intention  of  taking  one.     While 
he  was  crossing  the  road  to  the  house,  the  slow, 
ponderous  roll  of  some  heavily  laden  vehicle,  be- 
gan to  ascend  the  hill,  and  he  recognised  in  the 
driver  the  Boothe  carrier.     The  man  acknowledg- 
ed him  with  a  stolid,  inexpressive   countenance, 
and  M^ent  on  to  "The  Traveler's  Rest,"  where  his 
horses  stopped  of  their  own  accord.     When  Cap- 
tain Yescey  returned   to  the  inn,  the  wagon  was 
creaking  and  straining  at  the  moment  of  depar- 
ture.    The  owner  looked  more  stupid  than  ever 
after  copious  libations  of  beer  ;  and,  in  stumbling 
down  the  three  steps  into  the  street,  he  pushed 
rudely  against  Captain  Yescey,  who  was  coming 
in.     The  Captain  swore  at  him  for  a  drunken  sot, 
and  then  struck  him  smartly  across  the  face  with 
the^riding-whip  that  he  had  in  his  hand.     The. 
man  turned  round  savagely  to  retaliate ;  but  the 
landlord  interposed,  put  him  out  at  the  door,  and 
bade  him  be  off  before  he  got  into  mischief  again  ; 
so  he  contented  himself  with  scowling  malignant- 
ly at  his  assailant,  and  promising  to  be  even  with 


68  ii.vwKsvir.w. 

liim  before  long.  Csxptiiiu  Yescey  laughed  deii- 
sively,  and  shook  his  whip  with  a  menacing  and 
sigiiilieant  gesture. 

"  Ye're  no  wise  to  provoke  Branker ;  he  ancc 
killed  a  man,"  said  a  girl  who  was  waiting  to  see 
the  wagon  off,  and  who  was  perhaps  perilously 
interested  by  the  stranger's  beauty.  Wliatever 
Captain  Yescey  lacked,  he  did  not  lack  personal 
courage,  and  was  not  likely  to  be  intimidated  by 
the  threats  of  an  angry  boor.  Scarcely  observing 
the  girl's  pertinent  warning,  he  turned  into  the 
parlor  where  his  dinner  awaited  him,  as  the  wag- 
on labored  up  the  hill  toward  the  more  bustling 
])arts  of  the  town. 

In  the  evening  Captian  Yescey  strolled  down 
to  the  beach  to  dissipate  his  ill  mood,  and  consid- 
er what  next  he  should  do  for  the  furtherance  of 
his  object.  lie  could  not  learn  that  any  persons, 
answering  to  the  description  of  those  whom  he 
sought,  were  known  to  reside  in  or  near  "\Yhit- 
mouth,  though  the  landlord  of  "The  Traveler's 
Rest"  said  he  could  name  every  one — gentle  and 
simple — that  belonged  to  the  neighborhood. 


IIAWKSVIEW.  69 


CHAPTER   YIII. 

Tntc  bold  and  broken  coast  about  AVhitmoiith 
stretches  out  in  long,  narrow  promontories,  wliicb 
form  beautiful  little  bays,  where  the  sand  is  as 
fine  and  shining  as  grains  of  gold.  The  cliffs  rise 
straight  and  precipitous,  the  lower  parts  being  of 
hard  flinty  rock,  where  the  action  of  the  waves,  or 
perhaps  some  convulsion  of  nature,  has  torn  deep, 
cavern-like  fissures,  through  which  the  tide  roars 
and  surges,  even  in  calm  weather,  with  a  tempes- 
tuous music.  Above  the  stony  strata  are  bluff's  and 
hollows  of  red  clay,  the  upper  levels  of  which  are 
clothed  with  a  close  green  turf  bright  with  daisies, 
crowsfoot,  and  orchis.  In  some  few  places  adven- 
turous cragsmen  have  made  a  perilous  footing  up 
the  slanting  face  of  the  cliff,  by  cutting  little  niches 
in  the  rocks,  but  they  are,  for  the  most  part,  quite 
inaccessible.  The  tide  runs  up  into  these  bays 
with  one  grand  tumultuous  sweep  after  it  has 
crossed  the  bar ;  not  wave  by  wave  creeping  in- 
sidiously over  the  sands,  but  with  a  hungry  foam- 


70  lIAAVKftVimV. 

crested   swell,   which   dashes   against    the   cliii's 
breast-high  at  once,  and  then  rises  swiftly  up  to 
the  verge  of  the  clay,  lapping  the  emerald  grass 
and  s})rinkling  the  rose-briers  with  salt  spray.    In 
utter    ignorance   of   this   dangerous   peculiarity, 
Cajitain  Yescey  sauntered  meditatively  along  un- 
til he  had  left  "Whitmouth  nearly  three  miles  be- 
hind.    The  breeze  had  freshened,  and  the  clouds 
hung  low  and  red  on  the  western  horizon,  Wliere 
the  cliffs  plunged  sheer  down  to  the  sea  without 
any  margin  of  treacherous  sand.     The  tide  was 
coming  in  with  a  sudden  roar,  and  he  sat  down 
on  a  huge  boulder  of  rock  to  rest  and  watch  the 
irulls  flyiufj  close  to  the  water,  in  the  idea  that  it 
Avould  be  time  enough  to  return  to  his  dreary  inn 
when  the  sun  had  gone  down  behind  the  long  pro- 
montory which,  with^ts  line  of  dangerous  under- 
water rocks,  was  called  by  the  mariners  along  the 
coast   "Death's   Head."     lie  was    smoking,  and 
drawing  lines  on  the  firm  beach  with  a  i)oint  of  a 
switch   that  lie   had  cut   before  descending  the 
cliffs,  when  a  shrill  cry  behind  caused  him  to  look 
around,  and  he  saw  a  lad  about  lialf-way  down 
ge^iculating  vehemently,  and  pointing  toward  the 
f-ea.     It  was  some  time    bvfore  Captain  Vescey 
could  understand  what  he  meant ;  but  at  last  he 
])erceived  that  lie  continued  to  wave  his  arm  to- 
ward the  nearest  point,  round  the  bat-e  of  which 


IIA-WKSVIEAV.  71 

the  tide  had  not  risen  ;  and  supposing  tliat  some 
pei'son  was  in  danger  there,  and  that  the  lad  could 
not  descend  the  precipitous  clifts,  he  set  off  toM^ard 
it;  but   the   distance  was  deceptive,  and   much 
longer  than  it  seemed,  and  before  he  could  reach 
it,  the  white  foam  was  dashing  over  the  broken 
masses  that  fringed  its  foot.     Then,  and  not  till 
then,  did  he  perceive  that   the   danger  was  his 
ow)i.     He  had  had  some  rough  experience  and 
hair-breadth  escapes  in  his  time;  but  at  this  mo- 
ment he  would  have  given  all  his  chances  of  fu- 
ture fortune  for  one  stj[uare  foot  of  solid  standing 
ground  on  the  top  of  those  haggard  rocks.     He 
was  enclosed  in  a  crescent  of  clitfs,  the  two  horns 
of  M'hich  were  alreadj^  deep  buried  in  the  water, 
and  up  the  face  of  which  there  was  not  footing 
for  a  bird.     The  lad,  whose  warning  had  come  too 
late,  had  disappeared ;  perhaps  he  was  gone  to 
summon  help,  or  he  might  only  have  run  on  be- 
yond the  point  to  indicate  some  way  of  ascending 
the  clift'  there.     In  a  few  seconds  Captain  Vescey 
had  calculated  his  chances  of  escape.     He  marked 
the  dark  reef  parallel  with  the  inner  promontory, 
and  saw,  that  once  the  tide  level  with  its  jagged 
top,   it    would    sweep    up   to    where  he    stood 
in    one    gigantic   billow,   with    certain    destruc- 
tion upon  its  crest.     Anxiously  his  eye  searched 
the  black  barrier  where,  far  over  head,  festooned 


72  HAMKSVIKW. 

with  tfinrrle  and  menuaid's  hair,  j)rojoetcd  a  sort 
of  ledge  which  to  any  one  directly  below,  was 
like  a  marine  roof  ernstod  with  shells.  Each  siic- 
cefsive  wave  rose  higher  and  higher;  his  life 
seemed  now  only  an  affair  of  moments — moments 
swarming  with  the  remembrances  of  a  bad  life, 
and  all  the  qnickcned,  struggling  serpent  nest  of 
sins,  whicli  he  had  made  his  bosom  friends,  only 
to  sting  him  now. 

When  the  perfect  hopelessness  of  escape  by 
his  own  ingenuity  became  manifest,  lie  flung 
awa3-the  end  of  his  cigar,wliich  he  had  smoked  so 
closely  as  almost  to  burn  his  lips,  and  faced  round 
to  watch  the  tide.  lie  quoted  it  in  after  life,  by 
way  of  a  bravado  of  coolness,  that  in  this  mo- 
ment of  imminent  peril,  he  drew  out  his  cigar- 
case  and  match-box,  and  lighted  and  began  anoth- 
er, which  he  finished  as  he  walked  back  to  Whit- 
mouth  on  the  top  of  the  clilfs.  It  might  be  true, 
for  he  was  a  man  of  singular  resolution  and  vast 
j)hysical  powers;  still  he  suffered  that  quiver 
which  must  convulse  every  mortal,  let  him  be 
ever  so  brave  or  ever  so  phlegmatic,  at  the  pros- 
pect of  a  cruel  and  violent  death  which  he  must 
meet  jnissively. 

"To  be  drowned  like  a  rat  in  a  hole,"  was  his 
thought,  and  a  very  black  tlionght  it  looked,  so 
near  at  hand  ;  but  he  ha<l  scarcely  accepted  it  as 


IIAWKSVIKW.  73 

Lis  possible — naj,  \us,  prohable — lute,  when  a  lino 
of  a  strong  cable  ran  over  the  ledge,  and  dropped 
on  the  sands  only  a  few  feet  from  him.  It  was 
partially  steadied  by  a  lump  of  ore  attached  to  the 
end  ;  but  it  still  looked  only  a  perilous  ladder  to 
mount  all  that  dizzy  height,  and  might  well  make 
even  a  man  of  iron  nerve  hesitate  to  trust  himself 
to  it  were  there  any  alternative  ;  but  here  there 
was  none.  It  seemed  the  very  straw  at  which 
drowning  hands  clutch  in  blind  desperation  yet 
hope  of  life. 

"Now,  sir,  hand  over  hand,  it's  your  only 
chance  !"  roared  a  man,  projecting  his  body  half 
over  the  cdiff;  "hold  on  like  grim  death,  and 
never  look  down :  t'  rope  's  right  fast  aboon 
here." 

Captain  Yescey  needed  no  second  bidding ;  he 
began  to  climb,  now  resting  his  knees  against 
the  rocks,  which  scored  his  hands  terribly,  and 
then  wavering  in  mid-air,  with  no  hold  but  the 
cable.  His  weight  was  an  immense  strain  upon 
it ;  and  the  sharp  marge  of  the  ledge  cut  one 
twist  through  before  he  had  made  one-half  of  the 
giddy  ascent.  Fortunately  he  could  not  know 
this  added  peril,  or  it  might  have  unnerved  him, 
and  made  his  movements  slow  and  unsteady. 
As  it  was,  every  beat  of  tlie  clock  lessened  his 
chances  of  escape ;  any  hesitation,  any  faltei'ing 
4 


74  HAWKS'VIEW. 

must  have  been  fatal.  Tliose  above  watclicd  liia 
slow  progress,  witli  lijis  compressed  and  hearts 
beating  anxiously,  until  he  came  to  the  level 
where  they  were.  Just  as  the  tide  rushed  over 
the  bar  and  foamed  up  ag:ainat  the  rocks  below, 
he  laid  one  hand  upon  the  ledge,  and  gathered 
all  his  remaining  strength  for  the  lift  tliat  was 
to  bring  liim  upon  its  upper  surface.  Several 
diggers  from  the  adjacent  quarries  were  on  the 
spot,  and  now  lending  the  aid  of  their  brawny 
arm?,  soon  pulled  him  up  amongst  them,  with 
no  worse  hurt  than  a  few  severe  bruises,  and 
looking  as  cool  to  all  appearance  a^  if  he  had 
been  mounting  an  ordinary  staircase. 

"That  was  just  the  sickest  minute  ever  you 
lived  through,  master;  and  you  may  thank  Biidy- 
fute  yonder  that  it  wurn't  t'  last,"  said  one  of 
them,  di-awing  up  the  chafed  rope,  and  with  a 
siLgle  vigorous  efl'ort  snapping  it  in  twain. 

Captain  Vescey  drew  a  long  inspiration  through 
liis  closed  teeth.  "  Was  that  all  V  asked  he, 
pointing  to  the  frayed  ends;  and  then  he  swore 
a  great  oath,  that  the  devil  had  had  a  narrow 
miss  of  him  this  time. 

"  It's  })lain  you're  not  to  die  t'  sailor's  death," 
paid  an  old  grim-visagod  miner;  "bnt  Vn\  think- 
ing ye  might  ha'  framed  better  thanks  than  yon. 
It  warn't  Satan  'at  helpit  ye;  or  gae  ye  a  lang 


HAWK8VIEW.  Y5 

day  to  save  your  soul."  Jcrnmic  Grosstliw^ite 
was  a  Methodist,  and  would  hare  been  glad  to 
improve  tlie  occasion  to  the  profit  of  his  hearers ; 
but  Captain  Yescey  was  in  no  mood  for  an  im- 
promptu sermon,  and  cut  him  short  by  drawing 
forth  his  purse,  and  proceeding  to  distribute  to 
each  of  tlie  men  a  much  larger  gratuity  than  his 
present  means  warranted  ;  but  at  wliat  moment 
is  a  man  liable  to  a  fit  of  generosity  if  not  at 
tliat  when  his  life  has  just  been  saved. 

"Tiiank  ye  kindly,  sir,"  said  Jemmy,  who  had 
no  objection  to  pocket  his  fee,  although,  as  he 
w^onld  unctuously  iiave  expressed  it,  the  donor 
was  a  "  titbit  for  hell-mouth."  "Thank  ye  kind- 
ly. If  every  ane  I've  lent  a  hand  to  haul  up 
atwcen  this  an'  Death's  Head  sin'  I  were  a  lad 
had  been  as  free  wi'  their  money  as  you,  I'd  ha' 
a  grand  fine  spoil  i'  AVhitmouth  bank  this  day." 

"  Have  you  many  accidents  of  the  kind,  then?" 
Captain  Yescey  asked. 

"There's  been  more  strangers  'at  had  got 
'emselves  into  your  predicament  lost  i'  t'  tide 
down  o'  them  sands  than  ha'  been  saved ;  either 
help  cam'  too  late,  or  they  darn't  trust  to  t'  rope, 
but  they're  not  sae  common  now  as  ance  they 
were.  People's  getting  to  knaw  t'  beach,  an'  they 
don't  run  their  heads  into  wilful  paril.  Even 
fools  doesn't.    Besides,  there's  coils  o'  rope  handy, 


76  IIAWKSVIEW. 

and  Birdyfuto  an'  t'  other  lads  anionji:  'urn  kce}> 
a  keen  look-out  to  warn  folk  if  they  wander  over 
far.  "When  t'  tide  is  on  t'  turn,  a  wise  man 
wilhi't  rumid  t'  Cat's-head ;  yen's  it,  that  big, 
low,  blunt  rock,  a  mile  an'  a  half  fra'  Wliit- 
nioutli. 

"  Ane  good  turn  deserves  another,  you'll  own, 
Sir,"  said  the  man  who  had  first  spoken  ;  "  an'  as 
we  be  going  into  Whitmouth  for  a  spree,  mayhap 
you'll  pick  up  lilc  Birdyfute,  and  take  him  on 
your  back  to  his  mothpr,  for  t'  bairn  has  hurted 
liis  foot  badly  wi'  running,  and  I  doubt  he  can't 
walk  liome." 

Birdyfute,  as  the  quarry  men  called  him,  was 
the  lad  who  had  warned  Captain  Vescey  from  the 
cliff.  He  now  sat  on  one  of  tlie  green  slopes  a 
little  higher  up,  his  bonny  brown  face  contracted 
with  pain,  and  a  sickly  pallor  on  his  lips.  As  tlie 
stranger  approached,  he  looked  up  at  him  with  a 
pair  of  wistful  filling  eyes,  and  struggled  bravely 
not  to  cry  out  as  he  attempted  to  rise. 

"  "Well,  my  lad,  I  owe  you  my  life,  and  you 
liave  got  an  accident  in  my  service ;  let  me  carry 
3'ou  home,  and  then  you  shall  toll  me  in  what 
way  I  can  best  show  you  my  gratitude,''  said  the 
Captain,  in  his  gentlest  tones;  an<l  when  this  man 
chose  to  exhibit  tenderness,  or  the  similitude  of 
any  of  the  finer  emotions,  he  proved  himself  an 


IIAWKSVIEW.  77 

adept  tlierc'in.  His  countenance  softened,  and  his 
voice  crept  in  amongst  tlie  heart-strings  as  subtly 
as  tliat  Satan-whiftper,  which  so  long  ago  made 
an  ever-echoins'  discord  through  all  the  ajies  of 
time.  The  child-i^istinct  was  bewildered  by  this 
kind  address  ;  and  Birdyfute,  though  he  smiled 
faintly,  said  he  would  try  to  walk.  Tliere  was 
the  sign  of  a  pride  on  his  curled  lip,  that  thought 
shame  to  be  carried  like  a  baby  ;  fur  he  was  a 
iine,  well-grown  lad  of  ten  years  old  at  least,  and 
strong  beyond  his  age.  Oaptain  Yescey  bade  him 
take  hold  of  his  arm,  and  thus  assisted,  he  con- 
trived to  iirap  a  few  steps,  but  then  was  obliged 
to  give  in  ;  the  pain  was  too  much  for  him. 

"  I'm  afraid  you  wnll  remember  me  sorrowfully 
a  long  while,  Birdyfute,"  said  the  Captain. 

"JS^ ay,  sir,  it's  only  a  sprain;  I'll  be  running 
about  again  in  a  day  or  two,"  was  the  brave 
answer.  He  made  another  effort  to  proceed,  but 
the  mere  act  of  putting  his  foot  to  tiie  ground 
extorted  from  him  a  suppressed  cry,  and  brought 
the  tears  into  his  eyes ;  they  did  not  overliov.', 
however. 

"  Come,  fancy  I  am  your  father,  and  it  will  be 
all  right,"  said  the  Captain ;  and,  lifting  the  lad 
in  his  arms  wirh  tlie  utmost  gentleness,  he  was 
permitted  to  carry  him  without  resistance. 

"  My  father  is  not  with  us  here  ;  he  is  a  soldier, 


5* 


78  HAWKSVIRW. 

and  he  is  away  fighting  the  king's  battles,"  re- 
plied Birdyfiite. 

"  He  will  come  back  some  day." 

'*  I  don't  know  ;  he  has  been  so  long  away  that 
my  mother  tliinlcs  periiaps  he  will  not.  I  mean 
to  be  a  soldier  too  when  I  am  big  enough." 

"  Gallant  boy ;  I'll  have  you  in  my  troop. 
Ilere  we  are  at  two  roads — which  way  must  we 
go?" 

"  Straight  on."  Birdyfute  closed  his  eyes,  and 
seemed  to  resign  hiniBelf  complacently  to  his 
bearded  nurse ;  a  confidence  whicli  penetrated 
some  soft  human  bit  of  Captain  Vesce3''8  heart, 
f"»r  he  felt  a  peculiar  satisfaction  in  watching  the 
beautifid  sunburt  young  face  that  rested  against 
his  shoulder.     Tlie  child  wore  a  Holland  blouse, 

fastened  around   his  waist  with  a  broad  leathern 

« 

belt,  and  from  the  numerous  stains  of  purple 
juice  upon  it,  he  had  evidently  been  regaling  on 
the  half-ripe  blackberries  with  which  the  hedges 
abounded. 

"  Why  do  they  call  you  Birdyfute,  my  little 
man  ?"  asked  the  Captain. 

''  Because  they  say  I  hop  about  amongst  the 
rocks  where  there's  only  foot-hold  for  a  bird. 
But  there  are  better  climbers  than  me;  Willie 
Sleigh  and  his  brother  can  get  up  the  Cat's-head 
from  the  sands — I  can't.     I  tried  once,  and  fell 


UAAVKSVIEW.  79 

and  got  a  hurt  that  friglitened  niy  mother,  and 
she  said  I  must  promise  never  to  try  again ;  I 
shan't  till  I'm  older,  Willie  Sleigh  is  fourteen, 
and  he  works  at  the  quarries." 

"  And  I  dare  say  you  go  to  school  ?" 

There  was  a  little  hesitation  in  Birdyfute's 
answer ;  "  No  I  don't ;  my  mother  teaches  me," 
said  he. 

"  But  you  will  go  to  school  by  and  bye  ? 

"I'd  rather  not.  How  do  you  think  I  can  get 
to  be  a  soldier,  sir?  How  long  shall  I  have  to 
wait  ?" 

"  We  could  make  a  little  drummer  of  you 
already,  I  think,"  replied  the  Captain,  laughing 
at  his  martial  ardor. 

"  But  I  shall  not  be  a  drummer.  My  father  is 
a  gentleman,  and  commands  the  men.  I  want  to 
be  a  great  general." 

"Then,  my  lad,  you  have  a  long  time  to  wait. 
I  am  not  a  general  yet  myself,  nor  am  I  likely 
to  be." 

Bii-dyfute  opened  his  eyes  eagerly,  and  seemed 
for  a  moment  to  forget  the  pain  of  his  injured 
foot.  "  You  are  a  soldier!  You  have  seen  a 
battle  ?  Ah !  I  wish  you  would  tell  me  about  it," 
cried  he. 

Captain  Yescey  said  he  had  been  in  several 
battles,  and  he  would  talk  about  them  when  he 


80  llAWKSVIEW, 

got  liiiu  liome,  but  fur  tlie  present,  he  liad  not 
breath  enough.  The  May  they  Mere  taking  Avas 
by  a  steep  deseent,  whieh  shut  out  all  view  uf  tlie 
sea.  A  rivulet  ran  in  the  middle  of  the  lane, 
Mhich  could  be  crossed  at  intervals  by  slight  foot- 
bridges formed  of  a  single  plank.  The  hill-sides 
^uere  covered  'with  young  wood  to  the  toj),  and 
became  both  steeper  and  cluser  the  furtlier  they 
went.  The  last  bend  of  the  road  brought  them  in 
sight  of  the  ocean ;  and,  almost  down  upon  the 
shore  where  the  stream  i-an  into  it,  of  a  pretfy 
village  Avhose  ancient  church  on  a  green  emi- 
nence, and  whose  little  white  cottages  nestled 
amongst  trees,  formed,  in  the  soft  purj>ling  atnios- 
]»here  of  sunset,  a  very  sweet  picture  of  primitive 
rustic  seclusion. 

Birdyfute  looked  up.  "  Here  we  are,"  said  he; 
"  our  house  is  the  first  you  come  to.  You  mu^t 
cross  this  bridge.  There  is  Janet  watering  the 
flowers,  and  that  is  my  mother  at  the  garden 
gate." 

Captain  Vescey  stopped  suddeidy.  "Birdy- 
fute, what  is  your  other  name  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Marniaduke  Yescey."  The  lad  lixcd  his 
Ktcadfast  eyes  on  the  Caj>tain's  face ;  and  after 
regarding  him  ibr  a  moment,  he  exclaimed,  Avith 
tremuli»U3  haste:  "You  are.  I  do  believe  you 
nro  iiiv  father  come  home  at  last !" 


HAWKSVIEW.  81 

"Yes,  boy,  yes!"  and,  with  a  tlirob  of  genuine 
emotion,  the  Captain  bent  down  his  dark  face 
and  kissed  his  son. 

"Oil,  joy!  How  glad  ni}^  mother  will  be! 
Do,  do  go  on.  Here  is  Janet  coming  to  meet 
us.  But  my  mother  does  uot  stir  ;  look  at  her  ! 
is  she  afraid  ?" 

"  Birdyfute,  has  she  often  talked  to  you  of  my 
return  ?" 

"Every  day,  every  day.  O  !  I  think  she  will 
almost  die  for  joy.  And  are  you  really  and 
trul}^  ray  own  father  ?" 

"Yes."  Captain  Yescey,  advancing  quickl}'', 
met  Janet  as  she  ran  out  into  the  road  crying 
what  had  happened  to  the  boy.  Birdyfute  waived 
his  hand  and  shouted,  "Hurrah!  Janet!  My 
father's  come  home  from  fighting  the  king's 
battles  at  last!" 
4* 


82  IIAWKSVIl  w, 


CHAPTER   IX. 

C^VPTAJN  Vescey  gave  the  Loy  into  the  old 
Bcrvant's  care,  and  went  to  meet  his  wife,  wlio, 
at  Birdyfute's  exclamation,  liad  rushed  a  few 
Bteps  toward  him,  and  then  as  suddenly  paused, 
hor  hands  clonclied  together  and  her  ai'ins 
stretched  down  in  a  sort  of  spasmodic  tension, 
as  if  she  were  almost  paralysed  by  a  shock  of 
jiiy  or  terror. 

'"  O !  Chira,  how  iiave  1  sought  you  ?"  said 
lier  husband,  with  a  reproachful  tenderness  of 
tone,  that  c(>nveyed  a  sense  of  long  and  j^atiently 
endured  injury.  He  chose  at  once  to  place  him 
self  in  the  position  of  accuser,  that  he  might 
])rofit  by  its  advantages  in  making  terms  for 
their  future  intercourse.  She  did  not  answer, 
but  turned  from  him  with  a  low  cry,  and  covered 
her  face. 

"Come  in -doors,"  said  Janet,  touching  her 
mistress  on  the  shoulder  authoritatively,  "liirdy- 
fute  has  gotten  him  a  8i»rain,  and  you  must  help 


HAWKSVIE-W.  83 

inc  to  bathe  find  T)ind  it  up.  Keep  you  back," 
she  added  in  an  undertone,  and  witli  a  scowl  of 
bitter  distrust  at  the  Captain  ;  but  Clara  stretched 
out  her  hand  and  let  him  take  it. 

"I  have  taught  him  to  love  you,"  whispered 
she,  pointing  to  the  child  :  "  say  you  are  not 
come  to  take  him  from  me?" 

"  When  will  you  leave  ofl'  suspecting  me, 
Clara  ?"  Captain  Yescey  said  coldly,  as  he  drop- 
ped her  clinging  fingers. 

Poor  little  Birdj'fute — all  his  gleeful  triumph 
gone,  unlieeded  in  his  pain,  and  for  the  first  time 
in  his  life  neglected  by  his  mother — gazed  from 
one  to  the  other  in  almost  tearful  bewilderment, 
while  Janet  contemplated  the  scene  with  an  ex- 
pression of  extreme  discontent.  "  Come,  my 
sweet  lammie,"  cried  she  at  length,  moved  by  his 
piteous  pale  face,  and  kissing  him  passionately ; 
"  come  awa',  Janet  '11  tend  thee.  I  kenned  how 
it  wad  be  if  he  suld  come  back  to  her,  poor  blind- 
ed bairn  !"  and  she  carried  him  ofi\,  leaving  Cap- 
tain Vescey  and  his  wife  together. 

It  was  a  moment  of  intense  constraint.  Clara 
seemed  lost.  A  thousand  times  and  more,  during 
those  long  3'ears  of  separation,  had  she  prefigured 
to  herself  the  mingled  delight  and  agony  of  such 
a  meeting.  Sometimes  a  flood  of  wild  reproaches 
swept,  desolating,  over  her  imaginMion  ;  at  others, 


JB4  •  HAWKSVII.W. 

she  asked  herself  liad  slie  not  hcon  too  impatient, 
distrnstful,  faitliless?  Oiii^lit  she  not  to  liave 
staved  at  Ila^vksview ;  and,  nncomjtlainini;,  to 
liave  abided  cruel  sneei'  and  insult  for  licr  dear 
love'b  sake?  She  had  pictured  lierself  at  one 
moment  denouncing  him  with  fierce  wonianl\'  in- 
dij^nation  ;  at  anotlier,  croucliinij^  at  his  feet,  sup- 
plicating forgiveness;  and  now  that  he  was  come, 
file  was  mute,  Thej  stood  apart  from  each  otlier; 
she,  with  the  downcast  air  of  a  self-convicted 
criminal  awaiting  condemnation  ;'  he,  moved,  3'et 
still  fpiietlv  observant  of  her,  and  strong  in  his 
absolute  coolness,  interpreting  everj  quiver  of 
her  li])S  and  every  loud  throb  of  her  lieart  in  his 
own  favor.  She  was  scarcely  less  beautiful  than 
in  her  maidenhood,  so  it  cost  him  nothing  to  de- 
f-cend  fiom  his  cold  superiority,  and  to  say,  in 
that  passionate  accent  whicli  long  ago  made 
every  pulse  of  her  beiug  heat  to  his,  "  Goino 
Clara,  all  is  forgivcu  I''  He  opened  his  anns,  and 
she  threw  herself  on  his  breast  in  a  wild  abandon- 
ment of  hal)pine^s,  sobbing,  "  O  !  ^farmaduke, 
•  and  have  you  always  loved  me?  You  are  far, 
far  more  generous  and  forgiving  than  I  deserve!" 
He  replied  tenderly,  but  htill  w  itli  a  rebuke, 
"For  our  ^ou's  sake,  Clara,  you  should  never 
have  left  Ilawksview." 

"It  wati  for^im,  for  h>})t^  ^farmaduke,  that  I 


# 

IIAWKSVIKW.  85 

went  away.  I  conld  not  bear  that  he  slionld  see 
me  despised.  I  believed  that  you  had  deserted 
us;  that  you  did  not  care  what  became  of  us " 

"  Ah  !  Clara,  weak  and  suspicious  !  weak  and 
suspicious  always !  When  I  left  you  I  thought 
soon  to  return,  but  my  re'giuient  was  seiit  abroad. 
I  went  with  Evans  to  Spain,  and  when  I  came 
home,  ill  and  wounded,  you  were  gone  from 
Hawksview;  you  had  left  no  trace;  you  were 
lost  to  rae !  I  sought  you — ah !  what  need  to 
speak  of  that  now  !  You  are  here — I  hold  you 
in  my  arms.  Clara,  Clara  !  how  could  you  doubt 
me  ?'' 

That  painful,  inarticulate  cry  broke  from  her 
again.  "  Oh  !  I  was  wicked,  I  was  rash.  Manna- 
duke,  but  I  was  almost  mad,"  said  she,  after  a  few 
minutes  of  bitter  weeping;  "  but  you  have  for- 
given me  the  past,  let  ns  leave  it  for  to-night. 
Ah !  you  do  not  know  what  I  have  sufiered  P' 
She  lifted  hci'self  up,  shuddering;  put  back  her 
loosened  hair  from  her  face,  and  began  to  walk 
rapidly  to  and  fro  the  room,  talking  all  the  time; 
and,  with  the  um-easoning  vehemence  of  passion, 
dragging  piecemeal  into  light,  every  sore  spot  of 
that  melancholy  past  which  she  had  just  wished 
to  hide  out  of  sight.  "  When  you  left  me  that 
stormy  March  morning,  I  thought  my  senses 
were  forsaking  me — that  it  was  not,  could  not  be 


86  i^^  HAWKSVIEAV. 

real,"  said  slie;  "you  were  so  cold  and  Imrried — 
you  spoke  so  liarshly — you  drove  me  away  IVoiu 
you — you  would  none  of  my  help.  I  was  sick 
with  grief,  and  you  did  not  irive  me  one  kind 
■word.  I  waited  a  month  as  you  bade  me — then 
I  wrote.  You  sent  me  ilo  an&wer.  I  wrote  again, 
twice,  thrice — still  nothing.  The  summer  was 
passing — our  boy  was  born — and  I  thought  surely 
he  will  come  to  me  now,  I  tried  to  pour  out  my 
whole  heart,  to  tell  you  how  I  loved  you  still.  I 
wrote  to  you  of  our  child's  pretty  ways,  and  of 
liow  I  had  given  liim  your  beloved  name;  but 
you  never  answered  me,  you  never  came.  O ! 
it  seemed  cruel,  it  did  seem  very  cruel.  You  had 
wearied  of  me — you  had  abandoned  me — you  had 
gone  from  Enghmd  without  releasing  me  from  my 
promise  to  keep  our  marriage  secret,  though  you 
knew  how  it  had  al)ased  me  fnjm  the  first '' 

"llnsh,  Clara,  I  do  not  know  you — you  are 
not  like  your  gentle  self!" 

"Ko,  I  must  tell  you  all — then  I  will  hush. 
AV'omen  cannot  suffer  so  k»ng  and  be  always 
gentle,  Marmaduke ;  my  life  seemed  the  very 
dregs  of  bitterness  and  shame  ;  I  felt  degraded  ;  I 
trembled  and  blushed  when  any  eye  looked  on 
me.  1  thought  every  one  des}>ised  me  as  A  miser- 
able, lost  Moman  !  I  prayed  to  God  that  I  might 
die  ;  but  he  was  deaf  like  you:  he  would  not  hear 


IIAWKSVIEW.  ^.  87 

me.  Then  I  began  to  say  to  myself,  if  I  stay 
lierc  witli  the  child,  when  he  grows  up  lie  will 
hear  his  mother  scorned  as  an  unworthy  wretch  ; 
lie  himself  will  perhaps  learn  to  hate  me  for  put- 
ting on  him  the  burden  of  a  shameful  name — I 
will  take  him  away  to  a  strange  place  where  we 
are  unknown.  So  we  went — Janet,  and  he,  and 
I — we  went  secretly,  that  no  one  might  trace 
us,  and  that  our  secret  might  not  follow  us.  Only 
the  old  clergyman  who  christened  my  boy  knew 
when  or  where  we  went.  He  was  kind ;  he  showed 
me  how  it  was  my  duty  to  live  for  the  child,  and 
bring  him  up  in  the  fear  of  God.  He  said  that 
my  vow  to  you  was  not  binding;  but  I  kept  it, 
Marmaduke,  I  kept  it,  except  to  him."  She 
stopped  suddenly,  went  up  to  her  husband,  and 
looking  eagerly  into  his  face,  asked,  "  You  will 
acknowledge  us  now,  will  you  not!  You  will 
release  me  from  this  self-reproach,  this  secret 
shame  ?  O !  I  have  prayed  for  you  day  and 
night !  I  have  taught  our  boy  to  love  you  !  I  said 
it  was  better  that  he  should  believe  his  father  died 
a  soldier's  death  on  the  field  of  honor  than  that 
he  basely  and  cruelly  disowned  us.  Yes,  Mar- 
maduke, he  is  a  brave  lad,  and  he  has  a  tender 
heart  for  you ;  but  lie  loves  his  mother  so  that  he 
would  hate  you  if  he  knew  that  you  had  meant 
her  any  wrong!"    The  last  few  words  were  hissed 


88  i^^  HAM'KSVIKW. 

• 

out  in  fi  fierco  whisper;  and  Clara  clenched  licr 
fingers  in  lu  r  liusband's  sleeve,  and  looked  at  him 
as  if  she  would  fain  read  the  intent  masked  by  his 
dark  impassable  countenance.  Ho  felt  that  her 
reviewal  of  the  past  had  re-excited  her  suspicions 
of  him,  and  he  desired  for  the  present  as  much  as 
possible  to  avoid  exjdanation  and  recrimination. 
It  was  his  ()l)jccf  now  to  win  his  wife  back  to  her 
old  habits  of  love  and  in)plicit  confidence,  with  as 
little  retrospection  as  might  be.  He  Avas  not  in- 
disposed to  let  her  bear  the  weight  of  selt"-bhimc 
ultimately,  providing  that  he  could  tranquilize 
and  make  her  hapjtv  now  ;  and  when  lie  spoke,  it 
was  with  a  gentle  melancholy,  half  loving  and 
iialf  re])roaclifid,  which  brought  the  easy  tears  to 
Clara's  eyes. 

"  Ves,  Clara,  you  are  my  wife,  and  Birdyfute 
is  my  son,  now  before  all  the  world,  if  you  will," 
said  he.  "  My  reasons  for  concealing  our  marriage 
were  removed  long  since  ;  but  when  I  could  have 
acknowledged  it,  there  was  neither  wife  nor  child 
for  me  to  claim.  But  come  to  me  now  and  bo 
ha]>py." 

Shu  crept  into  his  arms,  humbled  and  penitent, 
yet  gla<l  with  an  inexpressible  gladness.  She 
luid  never  ceased  to  lovu  her  husband,  because  a 
Woman  can  pardon  a  great  wrong,  if  the  silki-n 
chain  of  her  afTection   has  not   previously    been 


IIAWKSVIKW.  lA  89 


fretted  and  frayed  with  tlie  often  recurrence  of 
slight,  coldness  and  cruel tj.  lie  had  left  her 
while  her  passion  was  still  in  the  heyday  of  its 
romance ;  he  came  back  to  her,  and  her  whole 
soul  went  out  to  give  him  welcome.  The  next 
few  moments  passed  in  a  charmed  silence.  Clara 
was  rejoicing  in  her  recovered  happiness  and  her 
restored  pride — for  slie  was  a  proud  woman  even 
in  her  love — and  her  husband  was  reflecting  on 
the  quick  and  pleasant  solution  that  evening  had 
brought  to  all  his  difficulties.  The  window  of  the 
cottage  was  wide  open  to  the  garden,  and  the 
sound  of  the  sni'f  breaking  heavily  on  the  shore 
was  distinctly  audible.  It  recalled  to  Captain 
Yescey  his  recent  peril  and  escape ;  and,  after 
listening  to  it  for  an  instant,  he  said,  "  Clara,  do 
you  ever  go  down  upon  those  sands  ?  But  for 
little  Birdyfute,  you  might  have  seen  me  to-mor- 
row lying  drowned  under  the  rocks,  or  perhaps 
have  never  seen  me  again." 

Clara  seemed  scarcely  to  understand  him  at 
first ;  but,  as  lie  briefly  detailed  the  particulars 
of  his  adventure,  she  clasped  tier  arms  round  him 
and  cried,  "  O,  Marmaduke !  so  near  to  me  and 
to  have  been  lost!  God  himself  surely  guided 
our  child  to  save  you!  And  he  was  hurt,  you 
eay !  "Where  is  he?  Birdyfute!"  She  raised 
.her  voice  and    called   him    twice   or   thrice,  but 


90  1^  IIAWKSVIKW. 

Vitliont     leaving     her    husband's    side.      Janet 
came  in. 

*•  Birdvfiitc  is  in  liis  bed,"  replied  she  stiffly, 
in  answer  to  a  question  as  to  what  had  become 
of  him.  ''1  ha"  hoimd  his  ancle  tliat  his  mother 
suld  ha'  done,  au'  it's  a  Mae  heart  the  dear 
bairn's  got  to  sleep  on  this  night." 

*'  Let's  go  to  him,  Marmaduke,"  said  Clara, 
and  she  led  the  wa}-  to  a  room  where  Birdjt'ute 
lay,  on  a  little  white  bed  under  the  window,  to 
which,  in  the  early  morning,  the  birds  that  ho 
coaxed  with  crumbs  came  and  awoke  him  with 
their  singing.  lie  ha<l  not  tiied  to  sleep,  and 
the  tears  that  he  had  manfully  kc])t  back  while 
there  was  anybody  to  see  them,  had  tlowed  abun- 
dantly since  he  was  left  alone  with  iiis  j^ain  and 
his  grieved  thoughts;  but,  when  he  heard  his 
mother's  light  foot  approaching,  he  wiped  them 
away,  and  in  the  indistinct  twilight  she  did  iio't 
see  that  he  had  been  crying.  She  sat  down  on 
the  bedside,  put  her  arms  about  him,  and  kissed 
him  tenderly.  "  Did  my  darling  think  he  was 
forgotten?''  said  she,  in  a  caressing  whisper. 
"My  brave,  good  boy,  who  saved  his  fuiher's 
^life!" 
^  "Is  he  going  to  stay  with  us,  mother^"  asked 
Birdyfute,  eyeing  with  an  ill-defined  t^ensation  of 
fear,  the  tall  figure  leaning  against  the  wall  at 


IIAWKSVIEAV.  91 

the  foot  of  Ills  bed.  He  could  not  forget  tlio 
meeting  of  his  parents ;  and  it  had  destroyed  his 
k>ug-cherislied  ilhision  of  anticipated  deliglit  in 
his  father's  coining  home.  At  liis  question,  Janet, 
who  had  followed  her  mistress  in,  exclaimed  with 
gruff  displeasure,  "  I  suld  like  to  knaw  where  we 
are  to  lodge  him,  if  he  does !  He'll  ha'  to  go 
back  to  Whitmouth." 

"  I  shall  take  you  all  away  to  Hawksview  very 
soon,  Birdyfute — to  Hawksview,  where  you  were 
born,"  said  the  Captain. 

"  There'll  be  twa  words  to  say  to  that  bargain," 
muttered  Janet. 

"■  You  liave  come  from  ■  Hawksview,  Marma- 
duke.  What  does  the  old  place  look  like?  It 
was  so  bonnie !"  said  his  wife. 

"It  looks  like  a  wilderness — ^lost  and  over- 
grown ;  but  M'e  shall  soon  change  all  that." 

"We  were  very  happy  there,  dear,  once " 

"We  shall  be  very  happy  there  again,  Clara." 

"Is  the  sea  at  Ilaw^ksview,  mother?"  asked 
the  child,  who  did  not  lose  a  word  of  what  either 
spoke. 

"No,  Birdyfute;  but  there  are  great  moors 
and  thick  woods,  such  as  we  have  not  here,  and 
whicli  are  very  beautiful.  You  will  like  it  quite 
as  well  as  Cliffend."  Birdyfute  gazed  sorrow^- 
fully  out  of  the  tiny  casement,  but  said  no  more. 


92  HAWKSVIEW. 

Tliis  beginning  of  changes  did  not  approve  itself 
to  liis  fancy.  To  leave  the  sea,  the  aliiin  mines 
and  the  qnarrit'S,  "Willie  Sleigh,  and  all  his  old 
playfellows ;  to  have  his  mother  no  more  wholly 
his  own ;  to  see  old  Janet  angry,  and  that  dark, 
severe  ligure  always  looming  in  the  foreground 
of  home,  made  in  his  mind  a  nightmare  of  con- 
fused, unpleasant  feelings.  He  put  his  liand  up 
round  his  mother's  neck,  drew  her  ear  down  to 
his  moutli,  and  wliispered,  "  Mother,  are  you 
qiiite  glad  that  he  has  come  homo?" 

She  closed  his  lips  with  a  kiss,  and  replied  in 
the  same  tone,  "  Yes,  dearest,  I  have  never  been 
so  glad  since  you  were  born." 

This  secret  confidence  between  them  annoyed 
Cai)tain  Vceicey.  He  already  foresaw  in  tlie  boy 
an  antagonist,  whose  devotedness  to  his  mother 
w<^uld  incline  her  alwaN's  toward  him  ;  but  he 
was  too  politic  to  make  this  apparent.  lie  feign- 
ed not  to  observe  the  whisper;  and  said,  with  an 
air  of  gracious  complaisance,  "  Birdyfute,  you 
must  spare  your  mother  to  me  now ;  to-morrow 
shall  be  yours " 

"  She  can  go,"  replied  the  child,  and  he  furnod 
his  face  to  the  wall.  Clara  stO(»ped  down  over 
hinj,  and  pressed  her  lips  to  his  cheek  longer  and 
more  warmly  than  usual.  "  Have  y«»u  said  your 
prayers,   darling?      You    must   thank    God    for 


IIA^\'KSVIK^v.  93 

sending  us  your  father  safe  liomo  ;  don't  forget  ;"• 
and  without  waiting  for  any  answer,  she  laid  her 
liand  in  that  which  her  husband  offered,  and  left 
the  room  with  him.  Birdyfute  could  not  sleep 
because  of  his  aching  foot,  which  she  had  never 
thought  of,  and  for  long  after  he  had  heard  them 
walking  to  an  fro  in  the  garden.  Quite  late  when 
the  moon  was  risen,  and  it  was  almost  as  light  as 
day,  he  looked  out  of  his  little  window,  and  saw 
them  standing  together  by  the  gate  clasped  in 
each  other's  arms.  After  a  few  moments  of  ling- 
ering endearment  they  separated  :  Captain  Yes- 
cey  walked  swiftly  away  up  the  path  which  led 
along  the  tops  of  the  cliffs  to  Whitmouth,  and 
Clara,  when  he  was  lost  to  her  view,  re-entered 
the  cottaire. 


94  lIAWKSVIKVr. 


CHAPTER  X. 

Janet,  whenever  her  mistress  turned,  fallowed 
her  like  a  spy.  "  lie's  gane  at  last.  It's  an  ill- 
M-ind  has  blown  him  home  again,''  said  she,  in  an 
angry,  muttering  tone.  Clara  heard,  hut  did  not 
heed;  she  went  np  to  Birdyfnte's  room,  and  the 
old  servant  pursued  her,  as  if  she  could  not  bear 
her  to  go  out  of  her  sight.  "  I  want  to  know  what 
you  are  going  to  do  about  this  ]>uir  bairn's 
father?"  she  began,  coming  close  uj)  to  her. 
''  Are  you  going  back  to  live  with  him  f 

"  Why  do  you  ask  such  a  question,  Janet  ? 
What  have  we  all  prayed  for  and  hoped  for  these 
ten  years,  if  not  for  his  return  ?" 

"It  was  that  you  might  ha' your  good  name 
again,  and  no  ha'  to  hide  out  i'  honest  folk's  sight ; 
and  that  the  bonnie  brave  bairn  sidd  get  his 
rigiits  as  his  father's  lawfu'  sou.  I  prayed  for 
naught  mair,  none  I." 

Clara  sat  down  by  tlie  window,  and  folded  her 
hands  on  her  lap.     Janet  might  have  Ecolded  on 


HAWKSVIEAV.  95 

for  ever  without  provoking  a  retort,  she  was  so 
very  happy.  "It  was  I  who  was  to  blame — I 
who  failed  in  my  duty,  Janet;  but  he  forgives 
me,"  said  she.  . 

"  What  fule's  talk  is  this  ?"  exclaimed  the  old 
servant,  in  a  high-pitched  discordant  voice;  "let 
him  own  you  and  go  his  way.  AVhy  has  he  come 
at  all  ?•  what  is  he  scheming  ?  I  know  there's 
some  deep  laid  plot  i'  hand.  It's  not  for  nothing 
he's  claiming  you.  "VYae's  me !  but  sorrow  will  fall 
on  you  yet,  Chira!  Ye  war  ever  a  held  strangbairn !" 

"  Am  I  iiot  liis  wife,  Janet?  And  ought  we  not 
for  Birdyfute's  sake  to  be  re-united  ?  That  will 
silence  evil  tongues.  If  we  had  not  left  Hawks- 
view  long  ago,  we  should  have  been  acknow- 
ledged. We  ought  to  have  stayed — it  was  our 
place." 

"  Wha'  believes  that  but  you?  If  you  had 
not  left  Hawksview,  your  proud  heart  would 
have  harried  you  into  your  grave  lang  sin'. 
There  was  nae  God's  blessing  on  you  when  you 
cam'  together,  and  strife  '11  sunder  ye  yet!" 

"  Ko  Janet,  no  !  he  always  loved  me;  he  never 
intended  to  abandon  us.  Tlie  blame  of  our  sep- 
aration was  all  my  own." 

"  Was  it  your  blame  he  went  away  cursing? 
Was  it  your  blame  he  sent  nae  Avord  in  your 
trouble,  was  it?" 


96  nAWKSVIKW. 

"Give  up  railing,  dear  Janet,  and  tliink  of 
Birdyfiuo.  If  I  was  wronged,  the  wrong  is  my 
own,  and  I  can  and  will  forgive  it." 

"  Ave,  bnry  it  deo})  down,  and  stamp  on  it  wi' 
foririves  and  forgets;  bnt  it  wiil  rise  up  to  him 
again  !  Oh!  Clara,  ponder  it  well,"  she  continued, 
sinking  her  sharp  tone  to  one  of  trembling  en- 
treaty. "Wha's  been  truer  to  you  thai^ Janet? 
and  she  warns  you  not  to  gi'e  youi-self  ower  to 
him  tied  hand  and  fate.  Stay  till  you  pee  what  he 
wants.  It's  some  gain  to  himscl',  I  know.  He 
did  nae  look  at  you  like  a  true  liusband  come 
home  ;  but  as  eager  as  if  he  had  found  his  prey. 
I  watched  his  cruel  eyes;  and  remember,  Clara, 
my  puir  bairn,  how  he  left  you.  O!  it's  not  a 
kiss  and  a  soft  word  note  suld  make  you  forget 

"Are  you  a  Christian  woman,  Janet  Saunders, 
that  would  preach  such  wicked,  unforgiving 
enmity  ?" 

"I'm  a  Christian  woman  that  wadna'  ha'  a 
corbie-craw  in  my  doo's  nest.  If  you  go  back 
to  him  now  you'll  rue  it  long  ere  the  day  you 
come  to  die.  He  mav  ill-use  that  l)rave  baini 
that  never  has  he  seen  till  this  night.  lie  may 
leave  you  your  lane,  and  waste  t'  bit  money  t' 
auld  rector  gave  to  bring  him  up." 

"  Janet,  I  will  not  listen  to  you  any  more  J" 


HAVVKSVIEW.  97 

exclaimed  Clara,  hotly.  "  Let  me  be !  My  love 
is  my  love  still,  and  you  cannot  divide  us.  He 
is  my  own  dear  husband,  and  not  the  heartless 
monster  you  would  try  to  make  me  think." 

"  But  you  sal  listen  to  me,  Chira !  Nay,  stop 
your  ears  if  you  will,  but  you  sal  hear  nie.  You 
are  wilfu'  selfish,  to  let  t'  bairn  into  his  father's 
hands.  If  it  was  only  you,  wad  I  stand  again' 
your  will  ?  Nay,  I  wad  e'en  let  yon  sup  the  bitter 
drink  you  ha'  brewed.  But  it's  for  Birdyfute,  the 
bairn,  that  can't  plead  for  himsel',  I  speak. 
Where  are  your  ain  kin?  They  will  uphold  you 
if  you  prove  you  are  a  lawfu'  wife,  and  not  the 
thing  they  feared." 

"I  want  nothing  from  them,  Janet,  or  from 
you,  or  from  any  one,"  replied  Clara,  proudly, 
but  with  a  sinking  at  the  heart  caused  by  the  old 
servant's  reiterated  warnings.  "  I  can  trust  Mar- 
mad  uke  if  you  cannot,  and  Birdyfute  is  always 
safe  with  me." 

"  Neither  he  nor  j-ou  will  be  safe  once  he  has 
you  in  his  grip.  There's  nothing  sae  strong  or 
remorseless  as  a  bad  man  and  the  law.  But  if 
you  will  go  to  him,  go — there's  may  be  your  fate 
in  it." 

"  Since  you  speak  of  the  law^  Janet,  perhaps 
you  know  that  any  day,  without  asking  my  leave, 
or  consulting  me  at  all,  his  father  can  take  Birdy- 


>*%  it 


98  IIAWKSVIKW. 

*  fiite  away  from  nic  if  lie  likes,  and  I  couLl  not 
help  myself.  It  is  well,  then,  is  it  not,  that  I  can 
go  without  violenee  to  my  feelings,  for  I  do  think 
lie  means  us  fair,  Janet," 

Janet  seemed  confounded,  and  was  silent  for 
several  minutes:  "  Well,  there  is  a  fate  in  it," 
^aid  she  at  length,  with  a  great  sigh. 

Clara  told  her  how  Birdyfute  and  his  father 
liad  met :  "  And  surely  he  will  love  his  child 
who  saved  his  life,"  she  added,  coniidentlj'. 

"  He'll  never  love  anything  but  himself,"  re- 
turned Janet,  doggedly ;  my  heart  goes  sarcly 
against  him,  and  aye  will." 

Birdyfute  awake  in  his  bed,  heard  every  word 
of  this  dispute,  and  when  Janet  at  last  departed, 
he  called  his  mother  to  his  side  and  asked  her 
what  it  meant.  "  My  darling,  you  should  not 
havejistened,"  replied  she.  "You  must  forget 
what  Janet  said;  she  is  angry  and  prejudiced 
sometimes.  You  will  try  to  love  and  honor  your 
father  as  your  best  friend,  won't  you,  Birdyfute? 
Promise  me  dearest." 

"  Not  if  he  is  cruel  to  yo\i,  mother.  No,  I 
would  hate  him — I  should  wish  that  the  tide  had 
dashed  him  to  death  against  the  rocks,"  cried 
Birdyfute  with  vehemence.  Clara  laid  her  hand 
\i]H)n  his  lij)8,  and  bade  him  hush ;  and  then,  to 
check  any  further  expression  of   violent  feeling 


HAWKSVIEW.  99 

she  left  him  to  himself;  but  she  sat  long  by  the 
window,  gazing  out  into  the  still,  moonlit  night, 
and  trying  dispassionately  to  comprehend  the 
several  bearings  of  this  great  crisis  in  her  life. 

Janet's  faithful  remonstrances  had  not  been 
without  their  effect.  They  had  lowered  the  tem- 
perature of  her  joy,  as  cold  east  winds  blowing 
over  a  gleamy  May-day  freeze  the  buds  of  spring, 
but  without  altering  in  any  measure  her  deter- 
mination to  return  to  her  husband.  After  what 
had  passed  between  them  that  evening,  she  felt  it 
would  be  impossible  to  draw  back,  even  if  she 
desired  it — their  terms  were  already  made.  They 
had  parted  with  an  embrace — she  could  not  meet 
him  on  the  morrow  with  quibbles,  reproaches,  and 
interrogatories.  If  he  had  done  her  a  great 
wrong  once,  so  much  the  greater  should  his  love 
be  now  by  reason  of  her  forgiveness ;  and  if,  as 
her  love  and  her  pride  preferred  to  think,  she  was 
the  aggressor,  by  her  intemperate  haste  and  suspi- 
cion, in  quitting  the  shelter  her  husband  had  pro- 
vided for  her  in  his  absence  abroad,  it  behoved 
her,  with  all  meekness  and  humility  to  accept 
the  opportunity  he  gave  her  of  returning  to  her 
allegiance.  Every  point  she  thought  of  relating 
to  the  present  was  in  his  favor.  He  had  sought 
anxiously  to  discover  her  retreat;  and  Providence 
had   brought  his  own   son   to  his  rescue  in   a 


100  llAWK.SVIliW. 

inoinent  of  inunincut  pcM-il,  and  thus  led  Iiiiii  back 
to  her.  So  lleaven — Fate,  Janet  called  it — 
■  6eeined  to  will  their  re-union.  Love  also  was  on 
liis  side  ;  and  duty,  either  real  or  imaginary,  per- 
suaded her  that  for  Birdy  fate's  sake,  if  for  nothing 
else,  a  reconciliation  was  desirable.     As  for  the 

♦  boy  being  oppressed,  the  suggestion  was  out- 
rageous. Why  should  her  husband  have  re- 
claimed them  after  all  that  interval,  if  it  was  not 
to  give  them  his  protecting  care,  she  reflected, 
lie  had  found  them  in  the  liumblest  position, 
when  they  were  incapable  of  taking  their  rights 
by  the  strong  hand  if  it  had  still  been  liis  desire 

\t  to  withhold  them,  yet  he  had  immediately,  on  the 
questions  being  raised,  proclaimed,  "  You  are  my 
wife,  and  Birdyfute  is  my  son,  before  all  the 
world." 

After  ten  years  spent  in  a  seclusion,  shaded  by 
the  indefinable  shame  and  burden  of  a  false 
position  such  as  hers,  it  was  an  inexpressible 
relief  to  escape,  as  it  were,  once  more  into  the 
free  daylight  of  fair  repute,  and  to  see  her  child 
restored  to  his  rightful  place.  She  had  been 
wounded  in  her  affections  by  her  husband's  deser- 
tion, but  slie  had  Iteen  wounded  in  her  pride  no 
less.  What  she  might  exj)erience  wlien  the  real 
catise  of  his  anxiety  to  recover  her  transpired,  was 
yet  to  be*proved.     Jlis  policy  it  was  to  conceal 


HAWKSVIEW.  lUl 

it  from  her  until  accident  or  necessity  revealed  it, 
and  that  would  not  be  until  he  had  had  amj)le 
time  to  work  his  potent  spell  of  love  and  kind- 
ness, and  to  reduce  her  once  more  under  his  ab- 
solute rule  and  guidance. 


102  IIAWKSVIEW 


CHAPTER  XI. 

The  regular,  undisturbed  life  that  Clara  had 
led  so  long  at  Clifiend,  had  preserved  to  her  all 
the  fresh  grace  of  youth,  while  the  enduring 
sorrow,  which  she  could  never  wholly  forget, 
had  tinctured  her  air  and  uiaTuicr  Mith  a  gentle, 
refined  melancholy;  a  melancholy  that  added 
depth  to  her  lustrous  eyes,  and  a  soft  beiiignfty 
to  her  smile.  J^s,  a  girl  she  hafl  been  brilliantly 
beautiful  and  gay ;  but  now  she  had  the  graver, 
sweeter  charms  of  a  ripe  womanhood,  and  the 
loveliness  which  shines  forth  from  a  purified 
s])irit.  AV^hen  Janet  came  to  her  in  the  morning, 
she  was  irresistibly  struck  by  the  change  a  night 
of  happy  thoughts  had  made  in  her  countenance. 
Her  weariness  and  ])atient  languor  were  gf^ue; 
she  had  a  soft,  sprightly  air  —  her  voice  was 
quicker  —  her  smile  moie  frequent.  She  luid 
taken  ])ains  with  her  dress;  she  had  arranf>-ed 
licr  rich,  golden  hair  in  the  wavy  braids  tliat 
her  husband  used    to  admire;   and  she  looked, 


HAWKSVIEW.  103 

when  he  came  suddenly  npon  her  through  the 
trees  of  the  little  garden,  more  winning  and 
beautiful  than  on  that  ill-starred  evening  so 
many  years  ago,  when  they  lirst  met,  and  fell 
in  love. 

"  You  must  not  ask  me  to  leave  you  any 
more,  Clara,"  said  the  Captain,  with  eager,  sur- 
prised admiration.  "  I  shall  take  you  away  with 
me  to-day,  unless  you  will  let  me  abide  at  Cliif- 
end,  my  beautiful  darling!" 

Clara  blushed  and  palpitated  with  happiness 
— he  loved  her  still,  she  was  sure  he  loved 
her.  "  Birdvfute,  cannot  be  moved  yet — he  is 
in  here  Ij'ing  on  the  couch,"  said  she,  softly ; 
and  pausing  at  the  window,  she  called  to  him : 
"Birdyfnte,  your  father  is  come  again — have 
yon  nothing  to  say  to  him  ?" 

The  child  had  taken  counsel  with  himself,  and 
intended  to  try  to  please  his  mother  by  loving 
the  grim  Captain,  his  father,  and  said,  "  Yes,  tell 
him  not  to  forget  his  promise  of  a  story  about  his 
battles  ;  I  want  to  hear  him  talk." 

"  And  so  you  shall,  my  boy ;  only  first  let 
me  make  some  arrangements  about  leaving  this 
place.  Wlien  do  you  think  you  shall  be  able 
to  move  ?  Not  yet,  from  that  wry  face  !  Next 
week,  perhaps?"  Birdyfnte  was  silent.  "Well 
if  not  then,  you  shall  stay  with  Janet,  and  help 


10-i  IIAWKSVIEW. 

her  to  pack  up,  while  I  and  your  mother  go  to 
make  ready  for  your  reception  at  Ilawksview — 
is  that  agreealtle  f' 

This  proposition  in  reality  dismayed  both  Clara 
and  the  boy.  They  had  never  before  been  sep- 
arated, even  for  a  single  day ;  and  Clara  imme- 
diately negatived  it.  "Xo,  Marmaduke,  dear, 
that  will  not  do,"  said  she ;  "I  cannot  leave  him 
for  the  first  time,  now  that  he  is  so  helpless.  1 
have  never  left  him  before." 

Captain  Vescey  did  not  press  the  subject  then  ; 
but  afterward,  when  they  were  alone,  and  beyond 
the  range  of  13irdyfute's  wistful  eyes,  he  brought 
aU  the  force  of  his  eloquence  to  bear  upon  his 
love  for  her,  and  easily  moulded  her  to  consent 
to  his  plans.  Janet^ received  orders  to  arrange 
a  few  of  her  mistress's  clothes  for  an  immediale 
dejiarture. 

"And  the  bairn  is  to  go,  too?"  said  the  old 
servant  imperatively.  "  You  will  never  liave 
the  heart  to  forsake  hiin,  Clara  ?" 

"  lie  cannot  travel,  Janet.  You  must  see  it  is 
impossible;  but  I  must  go  to-da^',  for  my  husband 
insists  upon  it,"  was  the  confused  reply. 

Janet  did  not  trust  herself  to  say  another 
word ;  she  went  angrily  away,  and  did  what 
ehe  wafi  bidden,  only  taking  care  to  keep  away 
out  or  Birdyfute's  sight.    "While  Clara  was  dress- 


HAWKSVIEW.  105 

ing  for  her  journey,  Captain  Yescey  beguiled 
his  son's  attention  by  the  recital  of  one  of  the 
promised  stories,  and  they  had  just  established 
a  good  understanding  together  when  she  ap- 
peared. 

"  Where  are  you  going,  mother  ?"  the  boy 
immediately  demanded,  flushing  crimson.  "  Are 
you  going  away  from  us  V^ 

"  Only  for  a  little  while,  my  own  darling," 
replied  she,  kissing  him  fondly  ;  "  Janet  will  take 
care  of  you,  and  bring  you  to  me  very  soon." 

Birdyfute  pushed  hei-  face  aside;  and,  before 
the  threatened  storm  of  tears  and  entreaties  had 
time  to  break  forth.  Captain  Yescey  took  his 
wife's  hand,  and  with  some  urgency  drew  her 
from  the  room.  "  O  Marmaduke !  this  is  not 
kind  to  my  poor  boy,"  remonstrated  she.  "  I 
don't  think  it  is  right  to  leave  him — "  but  he 
hurried  her  into  a  carriage  that  waited  in  the 
lane,  and  they  were  driven  rapidly  off  toward 
Whitmouth.  The  thought  of  her  child  thus 
deprived  of  her  comforting  presence,  when  he 
most  needed  it,  j)^^i'sued  her  through  the  day, 
and  scarcely  all  her  husband's  assiduities  could 
calm  her.  She  feared  he  would  grieve  after 
her  until  he  made  himself  ill;  and  true  it  is 
that  Birdyfute  did  grieve;  but  he  grieved  and 
raged  alternately ;   ragiid,  too,  with  such  angry 


106  •  HAWKSVIKW. 

vehemence,  tliat  Janet,  sorely  against  lier  feel- 
ings, was  obliged  to  bid  him  "  whisht:"  for,  after 
all,  if  his  father  wished  to  take  his  mother  away, 
and  she  did  not  object,  he  had  a  right  to  do  so, 
that  uobody  else  could  deny. 

"'  And  you  must  not  look  to  be  all  you  ha'  been 
toiler,"  added  the  old  servant,  gravely.  "She 
will  ha'  to  take  thought  for  two  o'  you  now ; 
but  you"!!  be  sure  to  be  kind  and  'bedient  to 
her,  for  she  may  ha'  muckle  ill  to  thole,  Birdy- 
fute." 

"Oh!  Janet,  I  wish  I  were  old  enough  to 
be  a  soldier  now !"  replied  the  boy,  twisting  rest- 
lessly on  his  uneasy  bed. 

"Be  patient  and  you'll  get  your  will;  but 
never  hurry  about  it,  lest  you  suld  be  contraried. 
Now,  I'll  reach  you  down  t'  great  history-book, 
and  you  read  while  I  see  about  my  work.  If 
the  minister  suld  come  by,  just  you  ca'  him  in 
to  hear  t'  news  ;  t'  auld  man  '11  be  fain  to  knaw 
your  father's  come  home,  for  he  aye  said  you 
would  be  spoilt  among  nothing  but  womankind." 

T\ni  history-book  was,  however,  particularly 
dry  that  day  ;  and  Birdyfute  soon*  tired  of  it. 
and  of  his  couch  too.  Tiie  unnatural  durance  was 
all  the  more  burdensome  that  he  had  no  company 
to  cheer  him.  But  about  noon  came  the  vicar 
who  had  been  Clara's  only  frii  nd  in  her  seclusion. 


HAWKS  VIEW.  •     107 

and  that  pleased  the  boy.  He  had  heard  from 
Jemniie  Crossthwaite  of  Captain  Vescey's  peril- 
ous rescue,  and  had  himself  seen  the  carriaf^e 
drive  off  that  morning.  Janet  came  in  to  tell 
him  what  had  occurred  ;  but  she  now  spared  her 
comments,  and  confined  herself  to  facts.  The 
vicar  was  a  fine,  frank-faced  old  gentleman ;  but 
his  brow  clouded  over  as  he  listened.  "When  the 
recital  was  ended,  however,  he  spoke  cheerfully 
to  the  child,  saying,  "Kever  mind,  my  little 
man,  they  will  think  of  you  by  and  bye ;  it  is 
like  a  new  marriage,  after  such  a  long  separation. 
And  when  does  your  mother  come  back,  Birdy- 
fute?" 

Birdyfute  did  not  know;  but  Janet  volunteered 
a  statement  that  they  were  all  going  away  from 
Cliffend  for  good  very  soon  ;  but  her  mistress 
was  to  write  and  tell  them  when.  The  vicar 
said  he  hoped  she  would  not  forget  old  friends ; 
and  having  chatted  pleasantly  witli  Birdyfuta  for 
half  an  hour,  he  left,  promising  him  a  new  book, 
and  another  visit  in  the  evening. 

But  the  summons  for  Janet  and  her  charge 
did  not  come  until  three  monotonous  weeks  had 
dragged  through  their  slow  length.  Captain  Yes- 
cey  and  his  wife  went  to  Scotland,  proved  their 
marriage  to  her  brother's  satisfaction,  rejected 
overtures  of  reconcilement  with  her  family,  and 


108    •  nAWKSVIEW. 

tlien  went  to  London  for  a  fortnight.  There  they 
would  probably  have  remained  longer ;  but  Clara 
became  so  urgent  about  her  boy,  that  her  husband 
consented  to  return  to  IlawUsview,  and  there 
Janet  aijd  Birdyfute  joined  them  the  day  after 
their  arrival. 


iiAWKSvii:w.  109 


CHAPTER  XII.  ^"^ 

"  OsTTHE  DoBBiE  miist  descend  fi-om  her  tripod 
to  the  level  of  ordinary  mortals ;  Captain  Yescey 
has  found  his  wife,"  Eli  Burton  announced  one 
evening  as  he  entered  the  rectory  parlor,  after 
smokino:  his  cifirar  in  the  elm-tree  walk.  Roger 
Pohun  looked  np  from  his  book,  and  Agnes 
dropped  her  work  to  listen.  "And  not  only 
found  her  and  his  son  ;  but  he  is  bringing  them 
to  Hawksview  immediately,"  added  the  news- 
monger. "  Osythe  Dobbie  herself  was  my  in- 
formant." 

"  Then,  there  is  an  end  of  our  romance !" 
exclaimed  Agnes. 

"  Say,  rather  a  bewildering  crisis  in  it.  Surely 
your  interest  will  not  fail  at  this  first  act  in  the 
drama?"  said  Roger,  archly. 

"Perhaps  it  may  endure  until  I  see  her;  but 
I  think  she  has  been  too  forgiving,  don't  you, 
Roger?"  Roger  declined  pledging  himself  to  an 
opinion,  and  Eli  was  equally  cautious ;  tliey  would 


110  IIAWKSVIKW. 

both  wait  for  an  oiiportuiiity  of  judging  by  per- 
sonal ol)servation. 

.  The  said  opportunity  was  not  long  wanting. 
On  the  Sunday  following  their  arrival  at  Hawks- 
view,  Captain  Vescey  appeared  at  Boscombe 
church  with  his  wife  and  son.  They  came  in 
very  late,  and  their  entrance  in  the  middle  of  the 
psalms,  drew  all  eyes  upon  them.  The  Captain 
stared  round  in  every  face  as  if  defying  scrutiny, 
and  caused  many  an  inquisitive  gaze  to  droop 
abashed  before  his  own,  but  Clara  never  looked 
up.  She  was  flushed  and  agitated,  and  Agnes 
saw  that  siie  held  her  little  boy  by  the  hand  all 
the  time.  As  for  Birdyfute,  he  was  as  bold-e^'ed 
and  handsome  as  a  fairy-tale  prince  ;  his  brown 
face,  dark  waved  hair,  and  bright  honest  glance, 
won  him  admiration  from  all,  even  while  thejj 
acknowledged  his  strong  resemblance  to  his 
father.  He  was,  however,  shockingly  irreverent 
and  inattentive  to  tlie  service,  lie  talked  in  loud 
whispers  to  his  mother,  pointed  at  the  monuments 
on  which  he  read  his  own  name,  as  borne  by  gen- 
erations of  his  ancestors  for  centuries  back, 
laughed  when  the  flute  and  clarionet  tuned  nj)  in 
the  gallery,  and  generally  misconducted  himself, 
for  which  Janet  afterward  read  him  a  sei'ious 
lecture,  and  which  caused  Agnes  to  fear  that  he 
had   been   but   ill-brought   up.       But  Birdyfute 


HAWKSVIEW.  Ill 

Avas,  like  other  boys,  full  of  life  and  spirit,  quite 
incapable  of  being  still  long  together,  especially 
in  a  strange  place,  and  perhaps  his  wits  did  not 
wander  more  that  morning  than  those  of  other 
people,  whose  opportunities  of  knowing  better 
had  been  twice  and  thrice  as  long. 

"When  the  congregation  quitted  the  church, 
Birdyfute  was  in  a  great  fuss  to  escape,  and  got 
out  some  minutes  before  his  father  and  mother, 
who,  when  they  appeared  in  the  porch,  could 
not  see  him  anywhere.  The  fact  was,  he  had 
mistaken  the  gate  into  the  rectory  garden  for 
that  on  the  road  home,  and  had  rushed  through 
it  after  Jenny,  who,  grinned,  but  said  nothing. 
Captain  Vescey  and  Clara  were  looking  up  the 
paddock  to  see  if  he  had  gone  that  way,  and 
Birdyfute  himself,  having  discovered  his  mistake, 
was  just  dashing  back  to  them,  when  Roger, 
Agnes  and  Eli  Burton  issued  from  the  church 
door.  An  introduction  was  unavoidable,  and, 
perhaps,  was  less  awkward  under  such  circum- 
stances, than  it  would  have  been  if  formally  ar- 
ranged. The  eyes  of  the  two  mothers  met,  and 
there  was  a  sympathetic  goodness  in  the  hearts  of 
both,  which  instantly  disposed  them  to  friendliness. 

AVhiie  the  Captain  talked  a  few  moments  aside 
with  the  curate,  they  exchanged  half  a  dozen 
simple   remarks  about  Birdyfute,  who  fixed  his 


112  nA-vrKSTiEW. 

^reat  eyes  on  Agnes  as  if  lie  -were  tliinking  her 
wonderfully  beautiful.  When  the  two  parties 
separated,  Eli  Burton  was  vitv  proin])t  with  his 
comments  on  Clara.  ''  She  looks  as  little  of  the 
neglected  wife  as  any  woman  need  wish  to  do," 
said  he ;  "  we  have  been  making  an  ogre  out  of 
an  innocent  man.  She  looks  as  happy  as  an 
empress,  and  the  boy  is  a  princely  little  fellow." 

"Yes,  we  have  been  rather  hasty  in  our  judg- 
ments," replied  Agnes;  "and  I  am  glad  we  can 
reverse  it  so  promjitly." 

"  You  two  pronounce  from  the  outside.  I  shall 
reserve  m}'  verdict  for  six  months,"  said  Roger, 
sagely.  "She  is  a  pretty  creature,  and  I  hope  he 
will  use  her  well;  but  he  did  not  speak  of  her 
very  tenderly  a  few  weeks  ago.  You  must  cul- 
tivate her  Agnes.". 

Agnes  rej)lied  that  she  M'ould.  Boscombe  had 
not  yet  supplied  her  with  a  companionable  person 
of  her  own  sex,  and  there  was  that  in  Clara's  face 
which  promised  pleasant  acquaintanceshij).  Tlieir 
children  would  give  them  one  interest,  in  com- 
mon, she  thought  ;  and  as  it  was  ]>robable  ClaiM 
would  live  very  quietly  at  Ilawksview,  she  also 
might  feel  the  want  of  a  friend,  for  there  were 
many  persons  in  Astondale  who  inclined  to  re- 
gaid  her  peculiar  position  with  an  eye  of  askance. 

The  whole   neighborhood,  as  might  naturally 


^ 


KAWKSVIEW.  113 

be  expected,  made  itself  exceedingly  busy  in  the 
affairs  of  the  new  comers;  but  all  went  well  at 
the  old  house  on  the  hill  for  'Some  time,  i^obod}', 
M'ho  did  know  it  for  a  fact,  could  ever  have 
conceived  that  there  was  a  shadow  of  a  story 
{fttached  to  its  inhabitants.  Captain  Yescey 
went  out  grouse  shooting  on  the  moors,  and  Clara 
walked  on  the  terrace,  or  rambled  in  the  Avoods 
with  Birdyfute,  who  also  had  a  pony,  and  rode 
sometimes  to  Boothe,  or  elsewhere,  with  his 
father.  People  called  and  left  cards,  and  Clara 
sent  lier's  by  her  husband,  with  the  excuse  that 
having  no  carriage  she  could  not  return  their 
visits  in  person  ;  and  this  civility  accomplished, 
they  thought  as  much  as  was  necessary  had  been 
done  for  a  woman  who  had  caused  herself  to  be 

talked    about.      Some   few    individuals    elected 

• 

themselves  into  partisans,  and  condemned  one 
side  or  the  other  as  their  own  private  experience 
prompted  ;  but  the  general  voice,  as  is  customary 
in  such  cases,  was  against  the  wife.  Her  position, 
in  fact,  was  as  anomalous  as  it  could  well  be ; 
she  made  no  acquaintance,  and  no  friends  but 
Agnes,  whose  voice  was  always  in  her  favor  when 
she  came  under  the  harrow  of  public  discussion. 
The  gentlemen  liked  Captain  Yescey,  and  invited 
him  pretty  frequently,  at  first  with  his  wife,  who 
always  declined,  and  afterward  alone,     lie  had 


Hk 


Wi 


114  IIAWKS\Ti:W. 

seen  a  great  deal  of  stirring  life  in  various  plirts 
of  the  world,  was  conversational,  but  not  often 
brilliant — too  much  cleverness  would  have  been 
more  against  iiini  than  downright  dulness,  for 
then  he  would  have  outshone  his  company — a 
capital  sin  in  some  forms  of  society.  * 

Birdyfute  missed  Willie  Sleigh  and  his  dther 
adventurous  play-fellows  at  Clitfend  very  much, 
at  first ;  but,  by  and  bye,  when  he  had  his  pony — 
and  a  gentleman  gave  him   a  fine   setter  pup  to 
bring  up  against  the  day  when  he  should  have  a 
gun   to    go   out    shooting  with    his   father — the 
interests  of  the  new  life  increased,  and  he  grew 
reconciled  to  the  change.     From   the  very  first 
there  had  been  a  feeling  of  shyness,  reserve  or 
jealousy,  between  the  father  and  son  ;  but  it  did 
not   appear  obviously   to  any  one  as  yet.     The 
Captain  told  his  stories  of  dangerous  adventure 
by  field  and  fiood,  and  Bird^'fute  listened  with  un- 
wearied  satisfaction  ;    but   the   lad    never   crept 
confidingly  to  his  father's  side,  never  claimed  his 
help  or   interest  in  anything  he  was   doing,  or 
seemed  to  expect  more  than  the  sometimes  care- 
less, or  rough,  or  impatient  civilities  that  he  got. 
And  on  his  side,  Cnptain  Vescey  never  ofiered 
liim  a  caress  or  a  loving  word;  he  much  more 
frequently  bade   liim  go   out   to  pla\',  than   en- 
couraged him  to  stop  indoors  with   himself  and 


nMVKSviEW.  115 

his  mother;  and  he  always  seemed  to  find  his 
absence  a  relief,  as  if  lie  were  a  spy  or  a  restraint 
upon  him.  Birdjfute  was  quick  enough  to  find 
out  that  he  was  not  wanted,  and  not  loved  by  his 
father ;  both  were,  indeed,  secretly  conscious  of 
tUe  cold  distrust  that  lay  between  them,  and  both 
tried — though  for  diff'erent  reasons — to  ignore  it 
and  seem  friendly  and  frank  toward  each  other. 
The  lad's  education  was  not  much  attended  to,  he 
was  no  lover  of  books — dry  books  of  study,  that 
is — and  Clara  found  it  much  less  easy  to  beguile 
him  to  his  tasks  than  formerly ;  and  she,  never 
willing  to  thwart  him,  lamented  his  idleness, 
without  having  courage  to  enforce  a  change.  As 
for  appealing  to  his  father,  that  she  could  not 
have  done,  for  already  an  impalpable  shadow 
was  creeping  over  her  own  faith  in  his  kindness; 
and  she  determined  to  consult  Agnes  Bohun, 
who  always  showed  a  liking  for  the  boy,  as  the 
most  trustworthy  adviser  she  knew.  She  asked 
if  there  were  any  clergyman  in  the  vicinity  who 
would  be  likely  to  undertake  his  tuition ;  and 
Agnes  having  named  the  subject  at  home,  there 
was  a  council  held  with  Eli  Burton,  the  result  of 
which  was,  that  the  Honorable  Roger  Bohun, 
perhaps  not  much  to  his  inclination,  turned  peda- 
gogue  for  a  couple  of  hours  daily ;  an  employ- 
ment not  very  remunerative,  but  ^hicli  succeed- 


IIG  HAWKS  VI  KM'. 

ed  as  well,  if  not  better,  than  a  speculation  in 
bees,  ■\vbieh  Agnes  bad  undertaken  in  emulation 
of  a  certain  French  cure  who  labored,  like  the 
Bosconibe  curate,  under  some  of  the  inconve- 
niences of  a  narrow  fortune. 

Birdyfute  rode  down  to  the  rectoiy  by  ni»e 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  with  his  little  bundle  of 
books  strapped  together  and  slung  over  his  shoul- 
der, too  often — as  it  soon  became  evident  from  the 
non  preparation  of  his  lessons — the  strap  being 
only  unbuckled  in  the  curate's  study.  Roger 
was  a  good  deal  puzzled  with  his  pupil.  Ho 
told  Agnes  that  a  lad  of  more  generous  temper 
or  finer  natural  intelligence  he  had  never  seen  ; 
but  that  he  either  could  nt)t,  or  would  not,  a[)ply 
liiniBclf  to  overcoming  even  elementary  dithcnlties. 
Once  or  twice  the  curate  was  called  from  home 
during  the  lesson,  and  then  Agnes  ofliciatcd  as 
his  deputy  ;  Birdyfute  rather  ]>referred  that  he 
should  be  sent  for,  as  Agues  and  he  were  become 
great  friends  together.  The  lad  was  good-na- 
tm-ed  to  little  Mona,  which,  of  course,  Avent  to 
Agnes's  heart,  though  she  did  not  quite  approve 
of  his  riding  her  round  the  paddock  at  full  galloj). 
Then  Agnes  had  taken  it  into  her  head  that  he 
was  not  very  happy  at  home,  which  would  have 
made  her  kind  and  gentle  to  him,  even  had  there 
\n^n  no  other  cause. 


IJAWKSVIEW.  117 

It  "vvas  quite  true  that  Birdjfute  began  by  and 
bye  to  have  liis  trials  and  troubles.  The  warm, 
light  summer  evenings  could  not  last  for  ever, 
and  Avhen  it  began  to  gloom  early,  he  was  obliged 
to  stay  in  doors  much  more  than  he  had  done. 
The  nights  were  his  most  uncomfortable  time. 
Let  him  be  ever  so  still  over  his  book,  or  in  ever 
so  remote  a  corner  of  the  room,  his  father's  steel- 
grey  eye  would  keep  working  round  in  his  direc- 
tion, and  soon  the  inevitable  command  came : 
''  Birdyfute,  it  is  time  you  were  in  bed  ;  say  good- 
night to  your  mother  and  go."  Clara  never 
begged  a  reprieve  ;  she  would  lift  np  her  face  to 
kiss  him  a!id  smile,  and  answer  his  good  night 
cheerfully,  as  if  it  had  always  been  their  custom 
to  part  so.  She  rarely  came  to  see  him  in  his  bed 
either,  now;  and  when  she  did  come,  it  was  in 
stealthy  haste,  to  whisper  urgently  that  he  must 
be  a  good  boy  and  obedient,  if  she  fancied  she  had 
seen  in  him  any  sign  of  revolt.  Yes,  there  was  a 
vast  change  beginning  to  pervade  the  life  of 
poor  little  Birdyfute  ere  the  ^autumn  was  ended. 

Clara  could  not  but  feel  that  her  child  was 
being  slowl^',  yet  surely  weaned  away  from  her, 
although  at  this  period  she  made  no  sign.  When 
Captain  Vescey  was  out  for  the  day — which  hap- 
pened occasionally — she  would  try  to  indemnify 
him  by  returning  to  her  old  caressing  ways,  by 


118  nAWKSVIKW. 

givinn;  liiin  liolidiiy  from  his  Icpsons,  and  affording 
liirn  little  indulgences  that  used  to  gratify  him 
furinerly.  But  Birdyfute's  heart  had  closed 
under  the  chill  of  neglect,  and  did  not  open  freely 
to  single  gleamy  moments  ;  he  learned  to  distrust 
the  affection  that  only  dared  to  exhihit  itself  in 
secret,  and  grew  uneasy  under  its  restless  uncer- 
tain manifestations.  He  liked  to  stay  down  at 
the  rectory  with  Agnes  when  his  lessons  were 
done,  and  by  degrees  absented  himself  from  home 
as  much  as  he  could  without  provoking  comment. 
On  wet  days  he  would  carry  his  books  or  tools 
into  the  straw-chamber  over  the  stable,  and  stay 
there  undisturbed  for  hours,  while  his  mother, 
perhaps,  sat  alone  by  the  fireside,  grown  too  shy 
of  her  own  child  to  seek  his  society,  and  yet 
wearying,  O !  how  sadly !  for  those  old  days  of 
love  and  unreserve,  when  they  were  poor  and 
sorrowful,  but  always,  always  in  each  other's 
company. 

Iler  position  became  gradually  more  and  more 
isolated;  she  strove  to  blind  herself  to  the  knovt'- 
ledge  of  it,  but  could  not.  First  came  the 
shadow,  then  the  harsh  fact,  and  incidents  mul- 
ti})lying  daily  in  proof  of  it.  Ilir  husband's  brief 
revival  of  passion  waned  again  ;  he  was  sometimes 
cold,^  sometimes  sarcastic,  alm<»8t  always  caixlcss 
and  iudilferent.     lie  ceased  to  make  any  account 


IIAWKSVIEW.  119 


of  lier  will  or  wishes,  which,  it  must  be  allowed, 
slie  never  obtruded  upon  liiin;  self-negation  was 
the  part  which  she  had  voluntarily  taken  up  as 
her  own,  and  in  which  he  acquiesced  as  a  matter 
of  course.  She  worshipped  him,  and  he  received 
lier  worship  with  a  half-complacent,  half  con- 
temptuous weariness,  that  all  the  while  masked  a 
quietly  developing  process  of  tyranny.  He  dis- 
couraged her  visits  to  the  rectory,  and  there  was 
no  other  friendly  door  open  to  her.  On  some 
frivolous  pretence  he  sent  away  faithful  old 
Janet  Saunders,  replacing  her  by  a  daughter  of 
Osytlic  Dobbie,  until  at  last  Clara  found  herself 
a  prisoner  by  her  own  hearth,  and  alone  in  the 
midst  of  home. 

A  woman  of  stronger  or  more  vindictive  charac- 
ter would  have  rebelled  at  once,  and  have  strug- 
gled vehemently  and  continuously  against  this 
systematic  aggression ;  but  Clara  did  nothing 
unless  it  were  that  she  clenched  her  bonds  by  her 
tame  silence  when  she  ought  to  have  protested,  if 
not  for  her  own  sake,  yet  for  her  child's.  I  am 
wrong  when  I  say  she  did  nothing ;  she  pleaded 
against  herself  in  her  tyrant's  favor ;  blamed  her- 
self for  wearying  where  she  would  fain  have 
pleased,  and  sometimes  almost  loathed  her  own 
great  beauty  which  was  powerless  to  keep  what  it 
bad  won.     Conscious  of  the  yoke  which  would  yet 


120  IIAWKSVIEW. 

fret  licr  so  grievously,  she  smiled,  looked  blvtlio 
•  aiid  liapjiy  ;  flattered,  caressed  and  studied  her 
iudiiyereiit  husband,  letting  Birdyfute  fall  further 
and  further  apart  from  her,  until  by  and  bye  she 
was  forced  to  say  within  herself:  "I  have  no 
one  who  loves  me!  no  one  at  all!"  And  it  was 
not  easy  to  walk  gaily  over  that  hollow  life, 
while  old  Janet's  warnings  recurred  hourly  with 
Btinsrinor  and  truthful  bitterness. 

At  this  season  she  learnt  all  the  particulars  of 
the  Avill  under  which  she  inherited  the  estate  of 
Otterbourne  and  the  re^t  of  her  godfather's  pro- 
perty ;  and,  despite  the  struggles  of  her  pride,  she 
was  compelled  to  draw  certain  cruelly  mortifying 
deductions  therefrom.  Captain  Yescey  was  $;$■ 
sparing  of  information  to  her  as  he  could  possibly 
be,  and  when  she  would  have  inquired  further 
into  the  settlement  and  amount  of  her  inheritance, 
lie  cut  her  short  by  saying,  that  it  was  useless  to 
harass  her  mind  with  the  details  of  business  that 
she  could  never  understand,  and  that  she  must 
leave  the  management  of  everything  to  him. 
lie  took  such  a  lofty  stand  in  the  matter,  and" 
dispensed  with  her  interference  so  completely, 
that  foi"  the  moment,  she  was  crushed  ;  but,  when 
the  cajiability  of  reflection  came  back  to  her,  she 
reijistered  in  her  own  mind  a  vow,  that,  at  what- 
ever  risk,  she    would   keep   Birdyfute's   fortune 


HAWKSVIEW.  121 

entire  and  unencumbered  for  him;  yet,  she 
trembled  to  think  what  power  she  had  given  int.o 
her  husband's  hands  if  he  chose  to  use  it ;  and 
regretted  too  late  the  having  rejected  the  ad- 
vances of  her  own  people,  and  so  cut  herself  off 
from  their  support. 
6 


v< 


122  iiAWKsvii:\v', 


CHAPTER    XIIL 

One  morning,  about  a  tbrtniglit  after  Captain 
Vesccy  had  found  liiiusulf  under  the  necessity  of 
letting  Clara  into  the  mysteries  of  her  own 
aflairs,  lie  came  to  her  with  a  slip  of  written 
parclanent  in  his  hand,  and  said  quite  debonairely, 
"  Clara,  I  want  your  signature  here.  It  is  a  mere 
matter  of  form  ;  but  I  might  as  -well  have  it."^ 

"  "What  is  it  for?  Let  me  read  it  lirst,"  replied 
she,  stretching  out  a  trembling  hand,  but  trying 
to  feel  courageous. 

"  Xonsense  ;  just  put  your  name  here,"  pointing 
to  the  foot  of  the  page.  ''  It  is  only  about  those 
farms  at  Ottcrbourne,  that  I  told  you  were  to  be 
6old  as  soon  as  I  cc^uld  find  a  purchaser  to  give 
uiy  ])rice." 

"  But  Marmaduke,  they  are  Birdyfute's,  and  I 
don't  See  why  they  should  be  sold,"  said  she, 
folding  her  hands. 

''They  are  absolutely  i/tiut,  as  what  is  yours  is 
mine.     They  are  not  tied  up  by  the  entail;  and 


HAWK8VIEW.  123 

it  is  seltisli  in  you  to  desire  to  keep  all  for  him. 
It'  you  were  dead  to-morrow  I  should  be  a  beggar." 
Clara  still  hesitated.  "  Could  you  not  make  a 
deed  to  have  them  for  your  life,  and  that  aftez*- 
ward  they  should  go  back  to  him  ?" 

"TVill  you  sign  or  wall  you  not?  I  can  act 
without  your  consent  if  you  refuse ;  but  it  looks 
better  to  consult  you  about  the  disposal  of  pro- 
perty bequeathed  to  you."  Captain  Vescey 
seemed  quite  indifferent  as  to  wliat  course  she 
adopted  ;  but,  after  a  pause,  seeing  that  she  still 
deliberated,  he  added,  "  As  you  seem  bent  against 
compliance,  I  shall  liold  myself  free  to  act  as  I 
thiidc  fit,  without  going  through  the  formality  of 
taking  your  opinion  in  future." 

Clara,  like  most  of  her  sex,  was  in  realitj'-  as 
■  ignorant  as  a  child  in  all  matters  of  business. 
She  looked  up  in  her  husband's  face  for  a  moment 
or  two ;  and  reading  there  nothing  but  a  sullen 
unconcern,  she  took  up  a  pen  and  affixed  her 
signature  to  the  deed,  saying  at  the  same  time, 
"  Of  course,  Marmaduke  I  should  like  you  to 
have  a  provision  in  case  I  die  before  you ;  but  I 
think  it  may  be  contrived  without  dismembering 
Birdyfute's  inheritance." 

The  Captain's  countenance  lightened,  and  he 
replied,  "I  cannot  endure  to  see  your  suspicions 
of  mc  Clara ;  do  you  think  I  would  sacrifice  my 


124  IIAWKBVIEW. 

boy's  interests?"     Clara  did  not  speak,  but  slie 
tliouglit  the  more,     Ilcr  bnsband  eyed  lier  darkly 
for  a  nioiiieiit,  and  then  folding  up  the  deed  with 
a  smile  nf  triuni})h,  left  her  to  herself.     She  had 
ample  time  that  day  for  the  indulgence  of  her 
own     painful    cogitations.       Birdyfutc    had    ro. 
treated  into  the  plantations,  and  Captain  Vescey 
went  out  with  his  gun.     It  came  on  to  rain  in 
the  afternoon,  and  then  she  hoped  the  boy  would 
seek  her  iu  the  house  ;  but  he  did  not.     He  took 
refuge  in  the  straw-chamber,  and  there  fell  asleep 
over  the  travels  of  Rolando.     It  was  quite  dusk 
when  the  Captain  came  in,  and  the  fire  was  low, 
or  he  would  have  seen  a  treacherous  blush  dveinrr 
his  wife's  face,  from  chin  to  brow.     She  had  just 
been  thinking  that  she  would  write  and  bespeak 
her  brother's  kindness  for  her  boy,  and  he  startled 
her  in   the  guilty  thought.     She  had  a  supersti- 
tious fancy  that  he  could  read  her  thoughts,  and 
though,  while  there  was  nothing  but  love  to  i-ead, 
she  was  not  afraid  of  his  power,  since  that  morn- 
ing   there    had   cnme    into  her  mind    a   ghastly 
j)halanx  of  doul)ts,  fears,  and  Ibres^hadowings,  that 
it  would  be  ill  for  him  to  see.     C)p]»res6i<in  makes 
hypocrites  of  the  weak,  so,  dissembling  Jicr  con- 
sternation, Clara  turned  to  her   husband  with  a 
jdeasant  greeting,  asked  what  sport  he  had  liad, 
what  friends  he  had  met,  and  testified  as  much 


* «  ft 

UAWKaviKw.  125 

clieerful  interest  as  usual  in  what  he  had  beeu 
doing.  He  was  agreeably  siuprised  ;  for,  since 
the  difference  in  the  morning,  he  had  prepared 
himself  for  a  chango  in  her  affectionate  de- 
meanor. No  such  change,  however,  appeared ; 
but  this,  so  far  from  kindling  in  him  any  spark 
ot"  generous  forbearance,  only  emboldened  him  at 
once  to  initiate  a  project  which  had  lately  taken 
shape  and  substance  in  his  mind,  and  which, 
he  was  well  aware,  his  wife  would  disapjjrove  of. 

"Where  is  Birdyfutc?"  he  enquired,  after  a 
searching  glance  round  the  room,  that  failed  to 
detect  the  boy  lurking  in  his  favorite  corner. 
Clara  said  she  did  not  know ;  perhaps  he  might 
be  in  the  woods,  where  he  had  spent  the  morning. 
Just  then  a  great  plash  of  M'ind-driven  rain  smote 
with  a  nielancholy  sound  against  the  windows,  as 
if  reproaching  her  neglect,  and  ihe  Captain  in- 
dulged in  a  sneer  at  her  anxious  maternal 
solicitude. 

"  It  is  well  that  he  is  out,  for  I  want  to  talk  to 
you  about  him,"  added  lie,  looking  down  on  the 
hearth,  and  avoiding  his  wife's  eyes.  "  The  lad 
is  becoming  sullen  and  untractable,  and  I  think 
of  sending  him  oft'  to  school." 

"  Oh !  no,  Marmaduke ;  he  will  do  very  well 
with  Mr.  Bohun  for  a  year  or  two,  and  then  we 
can  consider  about  it,"  replied  Clara,  shivering 


126  IIAWKJJVIKW. 

internullj,  yet  spealving  in  a  careless  manner, 
as  if  tlie  subject  were  not  w<»rili  a  second  thought. 
"  Perhaps  when  we  leave  liawksview,  which  I 
Suppose  we  must  soon  do,  we  shall  go  within 
reach  of  some  school." 

"Butl  have  no  intention  of  leaving  Hawks- 
view.  It  suits  me  very  well  in  most  respects ; 
and  when  I  want  change,  London  or  Paris  is  tiic 
place.  I  shall  send  Birdyfute  either  to  Belgium 
or  German}',  I  have  not  decided  which," 

Clara  bravely  passed  the  matter  over,  dreading 
to  strenglhen  by  opposition  what  she  wouhl  not 
entertain  as  fact.  "  But  what  will  become  of 
Otterbourne  if  westay  here  f  she  asked.  "  It  is  a 
beautiful  old  place.  I  was  once  there  when  I  was 
a  girl."  It  was  just  before  her  luckless  marriage, 
and  she  would  have  alluded  to  it ;  but  seeing  his 
louring  look  at  her  she  was  silent. 

"  Otterbourne  is  just  let  to  an  excellent  tenant," 
was  his  careless  rejtly  lo  her  question. 

Clara's  color  rose  loftily  to  her  l)r()W.  "  I 
ought  to  have  been  consulted,  ^larmaduke,"  said 
she,  in  a  ])roud,  hurt  tone.  "  Why  siioiild  we  live 
in  this  miserable  cottage  when  that  beautiful  i)laoo 
is  ours?  I  would  much  rather  be  at  Otterbourne 
than  here." 

"  You  did  not  speak  of  liawksview  as  a  'mis- 
erable cottage'  a  few  weeks  ago,"  rejoined  her 


HAWKSyiEW.  127 

husband;  and  without  vouchsafing  her  a  single 
word  of  explanation,  he  got  up  and  went  away  to 
dress  for  dinner. 

Clara  shuddered  as  if  a  sleety  shower  had  fallen 
on  her  burning  heart,  and  a  few  tears  of  passion 
oozed  from  her  reluctant  eyes ;  but  she  dashed 
them  away  quickly  as  Birdj'^fute  came  into  the 
room.  It  was  some  comfort  to  draw  him  to  her 
arms,  and  not  be  repulsed.  The  boy  heard  from 
her  voice,  and  saw  from  her  flushed  cheeks,  that 
something  ailed  her,  and  asked  what  it  was.  She 
kissed  him,  and  played  with  his  curls  in  an  eager, 
half-conscious  way,  and  then  whispered,  "  O  I- 
Bh-dyfute,  you  love  me,  don't  you  ?"  but  as  the 
Captain's  step  was  heard  approaching,  she  pushed 
him  away,  and  bade  him  hush.  Birdyfute  went 
and  hid  himself  behind  the  curtains  which  were 
drawn  over  the  windows,  and  stayed  there  until 
lu's  father  called  sharply  to  ask  why  he  slunk 
away  as  if  he  were  afraid  of  being  seen.  He  then 
came  forth  reluctantly,  and  went  to  his  mother's 
side,  as  if  for  their  mutual  protection.  The  Cap- 
tain was  in  a  species  of  savage  rage,  which  he 
kept  down  with  difficulty.  "  "What  are  you  going 
to  conspire  about  now?"  he  demanded,  angrilj-. 
Neither  made  any  reply  ;  but  Clara's  heart  began 
to  beat  very  fast.  She  had  a  presentment  of  what 
was  going  to  happen,  and  involuntarily  twined 


128  HAWKS  VIEW. 

licr  arm  about  her  boy's  neck,  wliile  Birdyfute's 
face  crimsoned,  and  liis  eyes  glittered  fiercely. 

"  AVIiy  do  you  look  like  that  ?''  cried  his  father. 
i:v"  Come  here  :•' 

Clara  tightened  her  hold,  and  jdeaded,  "]N^o, 
dear  Marmadnke,  no  I  he  has  done  nothing 
wrong  I"  but  her  hu!>band  clutched  the  lad's  arm, 
dragged  him  from  her,  and  gave  him  a  blow  that 
struck  him  to  the  ground.  For  a  second  the  child 
lay  stunned — then,  quick  as  lightning,  he  sprang 
up,  rushed  at  his  father,  and  with  all  his  little 
mi<;ht,  struck  him  on  the  face.  His  mother 
shrieked  in  terrified  entreaty  to  stop  him  ;  but 
the  Captain  laughed  sarcastically,  and,  hold- 
ing him  off,  said  :  "  You  will  be  a  brave  man 
some  day,  Birdyfute;  but  I  must  teach  you  filial 
respect  meanwhile,  I  find  ;"  and  then  he  dragged 
him  struggling  into  the  hall,  and,  having  found 
his  horsewhip,  administered  a  terrible  chastise- 
ment. Every  stripe  seemed  to  cut  into  Clara's 
tender  flesh  ;  but  Birdyfute  never  uttered  a  cry 
or  shed  a  tear  ;  and  when  his  father  flimg  him 
violently  away,  he  turned  round  with  a  ijlaziiig 
glance,  and  said,  "I  wish.  Oil  wif>h  the  sea  had 
drowned  you  before  you  came  home  !'' 

The  Ca])tain  seemed  for  an  instant  abashed  ; 
he  laughed  uneasily,  and  then  bade  him  get  out 
of  his  sight.    Birdyfute  looked  extremely  inclined 


IIAWKSVIKW.  129 

to  spring  again,  but  his  raotlier  wound  licr  arms 
round  him,  and  held  him  fast,  tliough  he  strug- 
gled  to  get  tree,  wliile  her  husband  went  into  the 
parlor,  dashing  to  the  door.  Clara  then  induced 
the  child  to  come  away  to  his  room,  and  having 
locked  themselves  in,  she  stayed  there  in  the  dark, 
alternately  crying  over  him  and  trying  to  soothe 
him.  The  Captain  came  np  by  and  bye,  and  told 
her  to  go  down  stairs  ;  but  she  refused,  and  find- 
ing the  door  fastened,  he  retreated,  muttering 
angrily.  As  for  poor  Birdyfute,  his  violence  both 
shocked  and  frightened  her;  she  had  never  sus- 
pected such  a  ciiaos  of  untamed  passions  in  the 
breast  of  her  boy  as  that  lirst  fatal  blow  had 
roused.  Every  nerve  in  his  body  seemed  to  tingle 
with  rage:  "I  hate  my  father!"  said  he,  vehe- 
mently; '"I  hate  him!  If  it  were  not  for  you, 
mother,  I  would  go  back  to  Clitfend,  and  work  in 
the  quari-ies,  rather  than  stay  here."  She  })rayed 
him  not  to  talk  so  wildly,  and  promised  to  take 
care  of  him.  "  But  you  cannot,"  was  his  answer; 
"  he  does  not  love  either  of  us.  Why  did  you  let 
Janet  go  ?  He  would  not  have  struck  me  if  she 
had  been  here.  She  knew  what  he  was,  and 
warned  you,  mother." 

TlUB  implied  reproach  was  very  cutting,  but 
Clara  felt  it  was  not  undeserved.  She  had  neg- 
lected    to    assert    her    authority    for    her    child 


130  HAWKSVIKAV. 

hitherto,  and  it  was  hut  natural  that  lie  sliould 
cease  to  trust  her.  She  said  notliinij,  hut  sat 
listening  to  tlie  dreary  rain,  and  weei)iiig  tears  as 
dreary.  As  Birdyfute's  rage  cooled,  he  l)cgan  to 
think  of  her,  and  a  little  to  reproach  himself  for 
having  been  unkind;  hut  he  did  not  know  how 
to  express  the  strange,  uneonifortahlc  feeling ; 
and  when  Osythe  presently  arrived  witli  his  sup- 
per, and  a  message  that  his  mother  was  to  go 
down  to  the  Captain  immediately,  he  let  her 
depart,  and  afterward  cried  liimself  to  sleep  for 
Very  shame  and  J>it3'.  Chira  went  into  her  hus- 
band's presence  proud  and  full  of  resentment. 
''It  was  very  noble  to  revenge  yourself  on  poor 
Birdyfute,  because  I  had  vexed  you,  was  it  not, 
Marinaduke  ?"  said  she,  with  tears  of  anger  and 
contempt  briniming  her  eyes. 

He  was  rather  ashamed  of  what  he  had  done, 
and  attempted  a  palliation  of  it ;  but  he  had  drop- 
ped tlie  mask  now,  and  she  saw  him  as  he  was — 
a  grasping,  unscrupulous,  strong-lianded,  cruel 
tyrant,  and  she  told  him  so,  with  bitter  defiance. 
Her  blood  was  boiling  then,  and  bubbled  over  in 
irretrievable  words.  When  it  cooled,  she  saw 
that  her  policy  had  been  wrong.  Craft  would 
liave  served  her  better  tlian  violence;  but  she  hall 
declared  war,  and  war  she  was  to  have. 


HAWKSVIEW.  131 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

BiRDYFUTE  rode  do\vn  to  the  rectory  the  follow- 
ing morning  earlier  than  usual.  He  did  not  wait 
for  bre:ikfast ;  but,  having  begged  a  crust  of  bread 
from  Osythe,  started  without  seeing  either  his 
father  or  mother.  Clara,  from  her  window, 
watched  him  go  down  the  hill,  and,  coward-like, 
was  glad  that  the  meeting  between  her  husband 
and  son  should  be  deferred  another  hour  or  two. 
After  breakfast,  the  Captain  had  his  horse  brouglit 
round  ;  and,  telling  her  not  to  expect  him  home 
until  the  morrow,  he  rode  off  toward  Boscombe. 
Birdyfute  was  in  the  midst  of  his  lessons,  which 
were  but  ill  done  that  da}^,  and  the  curate  was 
striving  to  make  him  comprehend  some  difficult 
point,  when  Agnes  opened  the  study  door,  and 
said,  "  Roger,  you  are  wanted."  Out  in  the  hall 
she  told  hiin  that  Captain  Yescey  was  come,  and 
wished  to  see  him ;  and  entering  the  drawing- 
room,  he  found  his  visitor  standing  on  the  rug, 
with  his  back  to  the  lire,  and  seeming  to  make  the 
whole  room  dark  with  his  gloomy  presence. 


i;^2 


HAWKSVIIW. 


"Good  morning,  Mr.  Bolnin.  "Whore  is  my 
Bon  ?  I  am  come  to  take  liim  iVom  yon,"  said  lie, 
abruptly  ;  and  added,  as  the  curate  waited  silently 
further  ex})lanation,  "  Yon  see  the  lad  is  getting 
ruined  at  home;  so  I  think  it  well  to  tiansfer  him 
to  Mr.  Warrendar,  at  Boothe,  until  Christmas, 
when  I  can  take  him  abroad." 

"  To  Mr.  AVarrendar  ?  He  has  the  reputation 
of  being  extremely  severe,"  observed  Agnes,  who 
liad  re-entered  and  heard  the  announccnient.  "  I 
wonld  not  let  him  have  a  child  of  mine  in  his 
power  on  any  account." 

"  Birdyfute  requires  a  strong  liand  over  him 
just  now,  and  that  is  the  reason  I  have  selected 
Mr.  "Warrendar,"  replied  the  Ca]>tain  loftily. 
"  He  will  soon  bring  him  to  his  senses.  I  find 
him  headstrong  and  masterful  bevond  endurance, 
and  he  must  be  broken  in." 

Agnes  colored,  and  wonld  have  spoken  agaiii  ; 
but  Roger  warne<l  her  by  a  glance  not  to  inter- 
fere, though  he  said  himself,  that  he  had  liked 
Birdyfute'  because  his  temper  was  so  generous 
ana  tractable,  at  the  same  tinte  that  he  was  foil 
of  boyish  8j)irit8  and  intelligence.  To  this  re- 
mark the  visitor  offered  no  rejjly  ;  and  the  child 
being  brought  in,  was  told  his  destination.  He 
Hushed,  and  bit  his  lip,  and  turned  half  round  to 
Agnes,  as  if  to  claim  her  protej^ion  ;  but,  imme- 


1IA-\VKSVIKW.  ■    133 

diately  recovering  himself,  lie  said,  "  Yery  -well," 
and  stood  firm.  His  father  bade  him  go  and  bring 
his  pony  from  the  stable,  and,  having  shaken 
hands  with  Roger,  and  kissed  Agnes,  he  obeyed. 
The  Captain  followed  close  upon  his  heels,  as  if 
suspicions  that  he  might  try  to  give  him  the  slip, 
and  being  mounted,  they  rode  away  at  a  trot. 

It  was  a  dull  morning,  in  the  beginning  of  No- 
vember, and,  although  it  did  not  rain,  the  thick 
dim  mist  was  scarcely  less  penetrating.  The  trees 
dropped  their  few  leaves  into  the  standing  pools 
left  by  last  night's  storms,  and  the  melancholy 
sob  of  the  wind  over  the  moors  breathed  like  the 
voice  of  winter  desolation.  It  was  a  long  ride 
by  a  dreary  road  across  Blore  Heath ;  up  there 
the  rich  slopes  of  Astondale  could  not  be  seen, 
and  few  more  lonely  spots  could  be  fonnd  any 
where  than  this  barren,  desolate  track.  For  sev- 
eral miles  neither  the  Captain  nor  his  son  uttered 
a  word ;  but  at  last  Birdyfute  found  courage  to 
say :  "  Will  you  let  somebody  feed  Random  ?" 
Random  was  the  young  setter  before  named. 
•"  Yes,"  replied*his  father,  and  they  both  relapsed 
into  silence.  In  passing  through  a  little  village, 
they  heard  the  clock  of  the  church  strike  one, 
and  that  reminded  Birdyfute  that  his  mother 
would  perhaps  be  coming  down  Boscombe  lane 
to  meet  him,  if  she  did   not  know  wlicre  he  was 


1  r>4  HAWKSVIEW. 

being  taken,  ■\vliich  he  strongly  suspected.  At 
last  he  asked  the  question  hluntly,  "Does  n)y 
mother  know  wlTat  you  arc  going  to  do  with  nie  T' 
to  which  his  father  replied,  with  equal  plainness, 
"  No,  she  does  not."  The  boy  gulped  down  a 
great  sob  ;  and  in  the  eyes  that  he  kept  steadily 
turned  aside  the  rest  of  the  way,  there  arose, 
whether  he  would  or  not,  the  hottest  teai-s.  IIo 
■was  but  a  child — a  child  nurtured  softl/next  to 
his  mother's  heart,  and  he  knew  that  he  was  taken 
from  her  for  no  good  cause,  but  only  to  punish 
her  through  him.  "Oh  !  when  I  am  a  man,  then 
I  will  take  care  of  her  I"  thought  he;  for  in  his 
unhappiness  he  remembered  how  fondly  she  had 
loved  him  when  they  were  only  two,  and  his 
father  was  still  to  be  j)rayed  for  as  one  un- 
known. 

It  was  the  market-day  at  Boothe  ;  but  Avhen 
they  rode  into  the  town  about  three  o'clock,  the 
bii.-llii  was  nearly  over,  and  the  country  }>eople 
dispe^ed.  ^Ir.  Wai'rendar's  house  was  one  of 
the  largest  in  the  jjlace,  but  it  looked  almost  like 
a  jail  or  an  asyhun  with  its  dark  painted  shutters,* 
and  iron  bars  to  the  upper  windows.  "  You  will 
have  to  fight  your  way  here,  I  can  tell  you," 
said  Captain  Vescey  to  his  son  as  they  rode  U])  to 
the  door.  Birdyfute  glanced  up  and  down  the 
fiont  of  the  dreary  prison-liouse,  ^nd  thought  of 


IIAWKPYIKW.  135 

ClifFend  with  its  freedom  and  quiet  affection,  and 
made  answer  with  a  savage  earnestness  tliat 
caused  his  father  to  laugh  heailily,  "  And  I 
will  tight  it !  If  anybody  strikes  me,  I  strike 
back."  A  monitory  touch  on  the  cheek  wath  the 
Giptain's  whip  silenced  him,  as  tli,e  great  door 
creaked  open.  It  did  not  seem  to  have  turned  on 
its  lunges  for  a  week,  and  probably  had  not,  as 
Mr.  Warrendar's  pupils  went  in  and  out  by  the 
play-ground  entrance  at  the  back  of  the  building. 
Mr.  Warrendar,  the  servant  said,  was  at  home, 
and  would  see  them  immediately  ;  and  they  were 
conducted  to  the  chilly,  fireless,  "  company  par- 
lor," to  await  his  appearance.  He  came  at 
length,  a  frousy  man,  wearing  a  limp  white  neck- 
cloth, and  ill-fitting  rusty  black  clothes.  His 
countenance  was  harsh  ;  but  he  had  an  obsequious 
untiring  smile  stereotyped  upon  his  pendulous 
lip,  while  his  voice  wavered  unsteadily  between 
a  growl  and  a  croak.  He  had  not  a  single 
personal  point  to  bespeak  confidence,  and  little 
Birdyfute  immediately  conceived  a  violent  re- 
pugnance to  him.  *■ 

Captain  Yescey's  business  needed  little  explana- 
tion. He  wished  to  place  a  pupil  under  Mr. 
"Warrendar's  charge,  and  there  he  was. 

"  A  dependent  relative  ?"  suggested  the  school- 
master, mildly  interested. 


13G  IIAAVKSVIKW. 

"  Bv  no  means,  lie  is  my  only  son — lieir  to 
Ilawksview,  Ottcrbonnie  and  other  property," 
rej)lied  the  Ca'ttain,  satirically. 

Mr.  "NVarrendar's  amazed  expression  asked 
almost  as  plainly  as  words  could  have  done, 
"Then,  "why, do  yon  bring  him  here  ?"  and  the 
visitor  rejdied  to  it,  "lie  is.  rather  turbulent 
and  rebellious  at  home  ;  but  I  am  sure  he  will 
soon  become  amenable  to  your  well  known 
discipline." 

The  schoolmaster  glanced  at  his  new  pupil,  and 
mentally  registered  a  vow  that  never  should 
profane  ferule  of  his  descend  on  shouldei-s  that 
were  heir  to  such  estates.  "  I  don't  want  any 
nonsensical  distinctions  between  him  and  liis 
schoolmates,"  said  the  Cajjtain,  plainly.  "Let 
him  battle  his  way  with  the  rc-.-^t — he  will  be  all 
the  better  for  it."  ^Ir.  Warrauder  acquiesced, 
with  a  pious  quotation,  and  promised  to  be  quite 
impartial;  and  then  a  few  questions  relative  to 
teru|p  having  been  asked  and  answered,  Captuiti 
Ve>cey  shook  his  son  by  the  hand,  gave  him  a 
Miitence  or  two  of  advice,  and  tt>ok  his  departure. 
Birdyfute's  clothes  were  to  be  sent  by  the  carrier 
the  next  week;  and,  meanwhile,  Mr.  Warrendar 
undertook  to  suj)ply  his  wants;  the  pet  j)ony  was 
to  stay  at  Boothe  to  be  sold. 

Birdyfute  went  to  one  of  tlie  windows  to  watch 


•  IIAWKSVIEW.  137 

his  father  ride  away,  and  as  soon  as  he  was  out 
of  sight,  he  addressed  himself  to  the  conditions 
of  the  new  life,  by  aiinonncing  to  Mr.  Warrendar 
that  he  had  had  no  dinner,  and  was  hungry. 
Perhaps  such  an  accost  had  never  bet\)re  been 
received  by  that  gentleman  during  tlie  long 
course  of  his  scholastic  experience.  He  did  not, 
liowever,  betray  his  astonishment ;  but,  leaving 
the  new  pupil  in  the  company  parlor  alone, 
sought  his  wife — an  unpalatable  looking  counter- 
part of  himself — and  bade  her  give  certain 
culinary  delicacies  that  were  reserved  for  their 
own  table  to  that  favored  young  gentleman.  To 
bespeak  her  kindness,  he  told  her  to  what  lofty 
destinies  Birdyfute  was  born ;  and  she,  being  of 
the  same  creeping,  obsequious  chai'acter  as  her 
husband,  readily  complied  with  his  wishes. 
While  the  boy  ate  his  dinner,  she  sat  by,  and 
encouraged  him  with  some  fulsome  flatteries;  but 
so  unresponsive  was  he,  that  she  afterward 
suggested  to  Mr.  "Warrendar  that  if  he  haf^  not 
been  what  he  was,  his  pride  would  want  a  good 
deal  of  beating  out  of  him. 

At  Hawksview,  Clara  passed  a  most  dreary 
day.  She  was  not  much  surprised  that  Birdyfute 
should  not  have  come  home  at  noon;  but  wiien 
daylight  waned,  she  grew  uneas}-,  and  though  a 
drizzling  rain  was  falling,  she  clad  herself  to  go 


138  HAWKSVIKW. 

down  to  the  rectory  and  bring  him  back. 
Arrived  there,  she  found  Agnes  alone,  and  was 
apprized  in  a  few  words  of  what  liad  liappened. 
She  had  been  far  from  anticipating  such  promjit 
measures  on  her  liusband's  part,  and  the  sliock 
ahnost  cruslied  her.  Without  reflection,  slie 
began  to  reveal  to  Agnes  the  persecution  she 
enfhired  and  foresaw ;  and  asked  wildly,  could 
nobody  interfere  between  the  child  and  his  father? 
Agnes  said  it  was  monstrous  injustice  to  send  the 
boy  to  Mr.  Warrendar's  school,  where  his  com- 
panions were  of  the  meanest  class,  and  the  educa- 
tion of  the  worst,  letting  alone  the  severity  of 
the  discipline  there  practised.  As  for  the  in- 
iquity and  cruelty  of  removing  him  secretly 
from  his  mother — that  she  thought  beyond  com- 
ment. 

But  what  must  I  do? — where  must  I  turn?" 
exclaimed  Clara,  helj>le6.-ly,  "  I  have  no  friend, 
anywhere,  and  now  I  begin  to  see  that  my 
husband  is  my  worst  eneni}-.  Who  will  lielp 
us?"  Agnes  promised  that  Roger  should  re- 
monstrate with  Cajitain  Vescey;  and  suggested 
that,  perhaj)S,  when  the  affair  became  generally 
known,  he  wouhl  lin<l  himself  so  strongly  con- 
demned by  public  opinion,  as  to  undo  what  he 
had  done.  Clara  shook  her  head,  and  began  to 
weep  bitterly,  and  in  the  midst  of  her  paroxysm 


HAWK8VIEW.  139 

tlie  curate  came  in.  Plie  immediately  explained 
her  errand,  and  solicited  his  advice,  -whicli  he 
frankly  gave. 

"Do  nothing  rashly,"  said  he.  Mr.  AVarren- 
dar  knows  liis  oAvn  interests  too  well  ;  and  as  he 
is  only  to  remain  at  Boothe  till  Christmas,  there 
will  be  little  or  no  liann  done.  After  that, 
Captain  Vescey  spoke  of  sending  him  to  school 
abroad.  Do  not  oppose  his  design,  but  take  the 
pain  of  separation  as  chiefly  your  own.  Birdy- 
fute  will  be  better  off  tlian  lie  would  be  under  a 
capricious  tyranny  at  home.  Indeed,  it  is  the 
motive  and  the  manner  which  make  the  sole 
distinction  between  his  case  and  otliers.  Lads 
get  on  ver}'  happily  at  foreign  schools.  I  was  at 
Mannheim  myself  for  tliree  years.  It"  I  maj'  pre- 
sume to  offer  my  own  opinion,  I  should  say  that 
it  will  be  your  best  policy  to  let  the  little  fellow 
go  peaceably." 

"  But  is  it  not  barbarons  in  liis  father  to  act  as 
he  has  done,  Roger?"  cried  Agnes,  who,  for 
once,  thought  her  husband  too  cold  and  unsym- 
pathizing  in  Clara's  misery.  The  curate  made  a 
reply  to  the  effect  that,  when  any  person  is  all- 
powerful  over  the  fate  of  another,  it  is  more 
politic  to  conciliate  than  to  dvfy.  The  poor  wife 
nnderstood  him,  and  said  bitterly — 

"  You  mean  I  must  submit  and  be  still !     Ah  ! 


140  HAWKS  VIEW. 

it  is  easy  to  advise  that ;  but  if  you  knew  what 
Jjirdyfute  is  to  mc " 

"Ytm  must  have  parted  with  liiin  soon  under 
any  eircunistances.  He  would  have  to  go  to 
school  at  home,  if  not  abroad  ;  and,  as  lie  has 
already  elected  to  enter  the  army,  the  early  and 
thorough  acquisition  of  modern  languages  will  be 
a  positive  advantage  to  him  in  his  profession. 
Every  mother  must  bear  these  pangs  of  parting 
from  lier  children.''  That  was  the  light  in  which 
Hoger  Bohun  chose  to  put  the  matter.  Passion, 
ill-treatment,  hidden  motives  he  waived  alto- 
gether. It  was  good  for  Birdyfute  to  go :  it  was 
imperative  on  his  mother  not  to  oppose  his  going. 

"  If  I  were  you  I  would  no  as  Roger  says," 
M-hispered  Agnes;  "you  know  there  will  be 
hcdidays  and  letters,  and  then  as  he  grows  up  you 
will  nut  need  to  fear  for  hifn ;  you  can  make  him 
(juite  indept'Tident  of  his  father."  But  Clara 
tliought  of  herself,  and  how  lonely  she  should 
be — how  unprotected,  when  Birdyfute  was  gone; 
and  she  felt  as  if  the  curate  and  his  wife  were 
quite  incapalde  of  entering  into  her  position, 
thoiierh  both  of  them  felt  for  her  much  more 
acutely  than  it  seemed  judicious  to  express.  "  Oh!" 
cried  Aj^nes,  when  she  was  gone,  "he  is  a  cruel 
wicked  tyrant — worse  even  than  I  anticij)atcd  I" 
and  Roger  acquiesced  this  time  without  reserve. 


HAWKSVIEW.  141 

Captain  Yescey  did  not  return  to  Hawksview 
on  the  morrow,  as  he  had  intimated  to  Clara  was 
his  intention  ;  he  traveled  southward,  and  a  few 
days  after  wrote  from  London  apprizing  her  of 
what  he  had  done,  and  bidding  her  reconeile 
herself  as  best  she  could  to  the  loss  of  her  child's 
society.  She  carried  the  letter  down  to  the  rec- 
tory, and  would  have  read  it  to  Agnes,  but  she, 
with  a  twinge  of  self-reproach  at  the  unkindness 
in  act,  if  not  in  spirit,  declined  the  confidence. 
Clara  was  her  senior  by  several  years,  but  Agnes 
had  the  clearer  and  firmer  judgment.  Roger^also 
had  prompted  this  course  of  conduct. 

"Why  will  you  not  listen  to  me  ?  I  thought  I 
had  found  a  friend,    said  Clara,  piteously. 

"  And  so  you  have,  dear,"  replied  Agnes,  with 
eager  warmth ;  "  but  do  not  take  even  me  into 
the  secrets  of  your  home ;  it  will  not  lighten 
your  sorrows  to  blazon  them  to  the  world,  and 
when  brighter  days  come  you  will  regret  it  if 
yon  do." 

"  Brighter  days  ?  There  will  be  no  more  bright 
days  for  me.     Are  yon  mocking  me  ?" 

"  O  !  no,  I  feel  for  you  most  deeply.  We  will 
go  over,  Roger  and  I,  and  see  Birdyfute,  and 
bring  you  word  how  he  looks.  Why  should  you 
not  go  too  ?" 

"  I   am  forbidden.       But,  what   do    I  gain  by 


142  HAMTCSVIKW. 

obeying  my  husband,  or  wlmt  do  I  lose  by  dis- 
obeying him  ?     I  will  go." 

AgiK'S  WHS  Surry  n«»w  tluit  she  h:id  suggested 
the  expedition,  and  endeavored  to  waive  it. 
"There  are  but  six  weeks,  and  then  he  will 
cume  home  for  his  holidays,"  said  she.  "  Your  go- 
ing might  unsettle  the  poor  eliild  :  write  instead." 

"But  it  will  do  me  good  to  see  him;  there  is 
time  to-day,  and  1  will  start  at  once.  I  can  hiro  a 
light  cart  at  the  Inn,  and  I  will — yes,  I  will 
bring  him  home  again.  I  feel  that  I  have  a  far, 
far  fetter  right  to  him  th:in  his  father  has."  This 
sudden  thought  diverted  lier  grief  for  a  moment; 
but  Agnes  warned  her  gravely  against  venturing 
on  so  hazardous  a  step. 

"  Do  consider  that  Captain  Vescey  has  un- 
limited power  over  his  son,  let  the  right  V»e  whose 
it  may,*' she  urged.  "  Your  husband  might  again 
remove  him,  and  leave  you  in  ignorance  of  where 
he  had  taken  him  to.  At  all  events,  now  you 
know  that  he  is  within  reach  ;  you  could  go  to 
him  in  the  course  of  a  few  hours  if  he  were  ill, 
which  might  not  be  the  case  elsewhere." 

"  You  don't  know  how  it  would  comfort  me  to 
see  him  even  for  live  minutes.  Birdyfute  and  I 
liave  not  been  such  good  friends  lately  as  we  once 
were,"  replied  Clara,  mournfully.  "  I  should  like 
to  tell  him  his  mother  does  not  forget  him." 


HAWKSVIEW.  143 

"  Suppose  we  consult  Koger,  I  am  sure  he 
will  know  best — don't  you  think  so,  suggested 
Agnes.     "Let  us  ask  hitn." 

But  the  curate  was  not  at  home,  so  liis  advice 
could  not  be  had,  and  the  idea  of  delighting  her 
eyes  with  a  sight  of  the  child  had  taken  such 
strong  possession  of  her  imagination,  that  Clara 
could  not  be  prevailed  on  to  delay  its  execution. 
She  set  off  in  haste  to  the  Inn,  and  Agnes  pre- 
sently saw  her  driven  past  in  the  s])ring  cart 
which  took  the  landlord  to  market.  Arrived  at 
Mr.  Warrendar's,  she  was  shown  into  the  "  com- 
pany parlor,"  where,  after  keeping  her  waiting 
nearly  an  hour,  the  schoolmaster  came  to  her 
himself,  and  begg§d  to  know  her  business.  She 
said  siie  desired  to  see  her  child  who  had  been 
brought  there  unknown  to  her,  and  against  her 
wishes.  Without  being  positively  insolent,  Mr. 
Warrendar  explained,  that  he  had  that  morning 
received  a  letter  from  the  boy's  father,  enjoining 
him  strictly  to  prevent  any  such  interview  if  it 
were  attempted  ;  and  that  he  held  himself  bound 
to  adhere  to  Captain  Vescey's  injunctions.  This 
cruel  indignity  roused  Clara's  pride  to  passion. 
She  protested  vehemently  against  the  wicked  per- 
secution of  debarring  a  young  child  from  his 
mother's  presence,  declared  that  see  liim  she 
would,    and   at   last,   weakened   by   her  violent 


144:  nAAVKSVIEAV. 

emotion,  tortured  in  lier  love  and  her  pride,  and 
bitterly  disai>p()inted,  she  ijave  way  to  tears. 
I^Ir.  AVarrendar  was,  however,  niiieli  too  keenly 
alive  to  his  own  interests  to  be  moved  to  com- 
plianee  by  wefi)inir;  and,  at  length,  tinding  him 
impervious  to  threats,  bribes,  and  entreaties,  the 
unhappy  mother  was  eonipelled  to  leave  the 
liouse.  Adam  Brown,  at  the  Inn,  told  it  after- 
ward in  the  village,  that  as  he  drove  her  home, 
she  behaved  like  a  crazed  woman,  laughing  one 
minute,  and  crying  the  next ;  and  tliat  as  they 
passed  Blorc  Pool  she  tried  to  sjiring  out  of  the 
cart  and  get  away,  with  the  intention  as  he  be- 
lieved of  throwing  hei-self  into  the  water. 

After  this  public  scandal,  the  whole  country- 
side entered  into  the  quanel,  and  Captain  A^es- 
cey's  barbarous  treatment  of  his  wife  and  child 
was  the  theme  of  every  tongue.  Squire  Brough 
gave  it  as  his  opinion,  that  the  Ca])tain  had 
bi'tter  keep  clear  of  Astondale  i'oi-  the  future,  as 
everybody  was  prepared  to  give  him  the  cold 
shoulder.  Clara  met  with  sym])athy  enough, 
tlutugh  sometimes  even  ]>ity  was  tinctured  with 
contempt.  She  poured  the  story  of  her  griefs 
niid  her  wrongs  into  every  ear  that  was  ready  to 
listen  to  it,  until  some  few  were,  perhaps,  inclined 
to  tind  excuses  for  her  Iiusbiind's  ill-treatment  in 
liur  weakness,     in  Agnes  and  Roger  she  had  two 


^ 


HAWKSVIEW.  145 

constant  friends  and  supporters ;  but  even  they 
could  do  little  for  one  who  was  daily  undermining 
her  own  cause,  and  destroying  the  respect  whicli 
attends  misfortunes  borne  with  dignity  and  forti- 
tude, by  her  unceasing  clamor.  Captain  Vescey 
did  not  come  back  to  check  by  his  presence  the 
spreading  notoriety  of  his  ill-conduct;  his  wife 
heard  from  him  occasionally,  but  she  could  not 
longer  be  deceived  by  his  fulsome  expressions  of 
attachment.  The  time,  he  said,  was  long  that 
ke]3t  him  from  her;  but  he  had  business  in  hand 
which  could  not  be  got  through  so  quickly  as  he 
desired.  Whenever  he  dilated  upon  his  feelings 
toward  her,  the  letter  invariably  wound  up  with 
an  intimation  that  he  was  going  to  appropriate 
such  a  sum  from  the  Otterbourne  rents,  or  that  he 
intended  to  seek  a  more  more  profitable  invest- 
ment for  such  and  such  stock,  but  that  he  would 
give  her  fuller  details  when  they  met.  Clara 
tried  to  bribe  him  to  withdraw  the  restrictions  he 
had  laid  on  her  and  Birdyfute ;  but,  assuming  a 
virtuous  indignation,  he  bade  her  understand  that 
he  acted  for  his  son's  good  in  what  he  had  done; 
and  as  for  their  income,  he  did  not  acknowledge 
her  power  either  to  give  or  withhold  whatever  he 
chose  to  apply  to  his  own  purposes.  Every  such 
letter,  and  every  such  intimation,  rendered  Clara 
for  a  time  furious,  and  she  replied  in  the  most 


140  IIA-SYKSVIEW. 

iinconciliatory  spirit.  ISlie  even  proposed  a 
second  separation;  but  tliis  Captain  Vescej  de- 
cidedly ret'ii.sod,  saying  that  he  had  no  qnarrel 
against  lier:  tliat  though  she  was  passionate, 
lieadstrong,  and  wilful,  lie  did  not  despair  of  her 
awakening  presently  to  a  submissive  sense  of  her 
duty.  lie  professed  even  to  count  upon  her  love 
for  him — upon  a  love  which  was  turned  almost  to 
hate — and  reminded  her  of  the  unalterable  nature 
of  the  tic  that  united  them,  as  if  he  himself  had 
ever  respected  its  sacredncss  longer  than  selfish 
passion  proni])ted  him.  His  sanctimonious  pre- 
tences galled  her  mure  than  all,  Wn-  they  seemed 
to  place  her  in  the  wrong,  and  him  in  the  lofty 
position  of  a  righteous  husi)and,  burdened  with  a 
most  contrary  wife.  Clara  was  determined  that 
hers  should  be  no  patient,  silent  martj-rdom.  The 
vehemence  of  conscious  weakness  is  always  noisy, 
and  hers  proved  no  exception  to  the  rule.  She 
had  been  a  tender,  loving  woman  once  ;  those  ten 
long  years  of  desertion  were  borne  not  ill,  but 
they  liad  change<l  her;  the  brief  delusion  she  had 
rushed  into  on  her  husl)and's  return  was  like  the 
soft  delirium  of  the  opium  eater,  and  the  awaken- 
ing from  it  was  as  pregnant  with  frightful 
torments  of  mind  and  body. 

Captain  Vescey,  while   taking  his  jtleasnre  in 
London,  had  no  suspicion  of  the  fierce  onslaught 


HAWKSVIEW.  147 

tliat  was  being  made  on  his  character  at  home. 
He  had  made  up  his  mind  that  he  had  to  deal 
with  a  slave  who  could  be  cajoled  one  day  and 
coerced  another,  according  to  his  good  or  ill  will ; 
and  he  had  almost  decided  upon  letting  Birdyfute 
go  home  for  his  holidays,  when  one  of  her  most 
violent  letters  reached  him,  and  he  changed  his 
intention.  He  would  not  be  driven,  lie  resolved, 
and  he  immediately  wrote  to  Mr.  Warrendar, 
bidding  him  retain  the  boy  at  his  house  until  he 
claimed  him  in  person  ;  having  done  which,  that 
the  point  and  efficacy  of  the  punishment  might 
not  be  lost,  he  sent  Clara  word  by  what  means 
she  had  deprived  herself  of  the  child's  company 
at  Christmas.  At  this  time  she  made  a  second 
attempt  to  see  him  by  going  to  Boothe  and  hang- 
ing about  the  school  all  day,  but  again  without 
success. 


14S  nAWKSVIKW. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

When  Captain  Yescey  warned  his  son  tliat  he 
would  liave  to  light  liis  way  at  school,  he  used 
no  mere  figure  of  speech.     Birdyfute  had  literally 
to  light  his  way,  and  he  fought  it  manfully.     Mr. 
Warrc'iular's  favoritism  raised  him  up  a  host  of 
eneinies  amongst  the  rude  race  into  wliich  he  was 
suddenly  plunged,  and  there   scarcely  passed  a 
day  during  which  he  had  not  to  engage  in  one  or 
more  pitched  battles,  in  which  he  was  sometimes 
victorious  and  sometimes  beaten.      He  had  not 
time  to  feel  miserable  or  to  pine  after  home,  for 
he  was  in  a  perpetual  state  of  friction  and  excite- 
ment that  developed  in  him  a  wholesome   and 
hardy  but  not  uimatural   pugnacity.     There  was 
no    great    scholarship  amongst    the  rabble  rout 
of  his  companions,  and   the  daily  tasks  exacted 
M'ere    not    onerous :    the    food   was   coarse     but 
abundant  also,  though  Birdyfute  escaped  its  de- 
grading infliction  ;  still  there  was  nothing  either' 
to  educe  or  maintain  self-refipect,  but  everything 


HAWKSVIEW.  14:9 

to  foster  the  lower  passions.  As  in  Birdyfiite's 
case,  if  a  lad's  parents  Avere  well  off  in  the  world, 
or  he  had  a  tribe  of  young  brothers  at  home,  his 
due  allowance  of  punishment  was  portioned 
amongst  his  less  lucky  comrades,  and  so  invaria- 
ble was  this  rule  that,  by  the  amount  of  flogging 
a  boy  received,  his  social  status  might  be  very 
nicely  calculated.  Birdyfute  soon  penetrated  this 
mystery  of  discipline;  but  so  far  from  his  own  im- 
punity inclining  him  favorably  toward  liis  virtuous 
preceptor,  it  only  set  him  the  more  against  him. 
And  when  a  truce  with  his  fellows  was  pending, 
he  not  unfrequently  employed  it  in  devising  some 
droll  trick  to  be  played  off  upon  the  master  in 
school.  His  ready  wit,  his  frank  audacity,  and 
his  courage  w^ould  in  time  have  made  him  the 
little  king  of  this  community ;  but  the  Christmas 
holidays  came,  the  lads  dispersed  and  his  good 
genius  decreed  that  he  should  see  them  no  more. 
Birdyfute  watched  one  departure  after  another, 
secretly  longing  for  his  own  turn  ;  but  finding 
that  it  did  not  arrive,  he  asked  Mr.  Warrendar 
when  he  was  to  go  home,  and  received  for  answer 
that  it  was  his  father's  wish  he  should  stay  at 
Booth e  until  he  came  for  him.  Birdyfute  heard 
this  announcement  with  admirable  coolness,  and 
went  off  to  the  plaj^ground  to  join  those  who  were 
in   a  similar  predicament  to  himself,  while  Mrs. 


150  IIAWKSVIKW. 

"Warrendar  rated  her  husband  for  allowing  hira- 
eelf  to  be  turned  into  a  jailor,  without  first  ascer- 
taining at  what  rate  of  wages  he  was  to  hold  the 
honorable  post. 

Birdyfute  was  not  like  the  same  boy  who  had 
left  his  mother's  pining  arms  only  a  few  weeks 
ago ;  he  had  not  run  the  gauntlet  of  a  great  ill- 
conducted   school   for   nothing;  he   was  prompt 
with  his  fists  on  the  smallest  occasions  ;  his  tears 
had  retreated  further  from  his  eyes,  and  his  wits 
were  in  good  working  order.     No  lad  was  oftener 
out  of  bounds  and  more  rarely  detected  in  that 
delinquency  ;  and  now,  on  getting  free  of  Mr. 
AVarrendar's  jjresence,  after  learning  his  fate  for 
the  holidays,  he  made  use  of  his  speed  and  agility 
t£>  excellent  purpose.     lie  was  over  the  low  part 
of  the  play-ground  wall  and  half  way  across  Blore 
Jleath  long  before  it  was  discovered  that  he  had 
run  away  from  school.     It  was  a  stinging  cold 
day,  and  early  in  the  afternoon  the  snow  began 
to  fall,  but  manfully  forward  marched  the  un- 
daunted IVirdyfute.     lie  took  many  a  good  laugh 
to  liimself  at  thinking  what  would  be  the  dismay 
of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Warrendar  when  his  flight  was 
discovered  at  tea-time  ;  and  then  he  began  to  con- 
sider about  his   mother,  and  whether  she  would 
be  glad  to  have  him  home  or  nr»t,  and  to  congrat- 
ulate himself  that  his  father  was  safe  in  London. 


IIAWKSVIEW.  151 

Agnes  Mohiin — at  the  nursery  window  with 
lady  Mona  watching  the  old  woman  up  in  the 
sky  plucking  her  geese,  as  the  saying  for  a 
snow-storm  is  amongst  the  juveniles — saw  a  little 
dark  figure  toiling  over  the  hill,  and  as  he  came 
nearer  recognised  Birdyfute.  She  uttered  a  cry 
of  surprise  and  pleasure  that  brought  Roger 
from  his  dressing-room  to  see  what  was  the 
matter. 

•'  Look  at  that  brave  good  boy,  I  do  love  him, 
Koger !"  exclaimed  she,  and  the  curate  himself 
was  touched.  Agnes  rapped  on  the  glass  and 
the  child  looked  up,  triumphantly  waving  his  cap. 
They  seeuied  so  to  understand  each  other — heart 
spoke  to  heart  as  it  were. 

"The  back's  made  for  the  burden,"  remarked 
nurse  Beste,  with  homely  philosophy,  as  the  bonny 
brown  face  disappeared  ;  that  bairn  has  gotten  a 
rare  heavy  one,  but  he's  not  likely  to  die  under  it, 
God  bless  him,  and  so  everybody  thought. 

AVhen  Clara  came  back  to  Ilawksview,  Aslon- 
dale  and  her  life  both  wore  a  garb  of  sunshiny 
beauty ;  but  now  they  were  dressed  alike  in 
palest  winter  weeds.  She  had  been  writing  a 
long  letter  of  mingled  plaints  and  threats  to  her 
husband,  and  as  the  afternoon  darkened  she  laid 
down  her  pen  and  sought  the  window.  Twilight 
was  creeping  slowly  out  of  the  woods  and  cloud- 


0 

iug  the  cmp  -whitunees  of  the  cartli.     All  uas 
very  still,  not  a  tw'v^  stirred.     Sometinics,    hut 
very   rarely,   an    imperceptihle    motion    in    the 
atmosphere  sl||)ok  down  a  miniature  Bnovv-shower 
from    an    overladen    hram-h ;    a  hird    uinged  its 
ewift  way  to  the  sliiniiii,'  scarlet  holly  berries  iu 
the  hedge,   and    a   faint   tinkling   of  Boscomhe 
church  hells  floated  np  the   valley,  softly  unreal 
as  the  echoes  of  Christmas  bells  chimed  long  ago. 
The  moon  rose  early,  and  in  the  blue   ether  the 
stars  came  ont  one  by  one  until  the  dit-tance  was 
lost   in  shimmering  frosty  haze,  and    the   great 
cedars   on   the    terrace   stf»od  out   like   phantom 
guardians  of    the  niglit.     The  ash-logs    and   hr- 
cones    crackled    and    blazed   cheerfully   in    the 
grate.      On    tlie  •  hearth    lay    stretched    asleep 
Eandom  who  had  been   taken   into   great  fav«»r 
since  Birdyfute  went  away ;  and  the  warm  crim- 
son hangings  and  furniture  of  the  room  glowed 
pleasantly  in   the  firelight.     Suddenly  a  distant 
whistle  was  lieard,  Kandom  ])ricked  up  his  ears, 
listened,  rose  from  the  rug,  shook  himself,  and 
with  a  quick  joyous  bark  ran  to  the  door  which 
Clara  oj)ened  for  him,  and  a^vay  he  went  tearing 
through  the  deep  snow  and  barking  vociferously. 
Soon  he  returned,  bounded  over  the  gate  as  he 
liad  done  in  leaving  the  garden,  and  then  stood 
still,  his  head   on  one  side,    and   flourishing  his 


HAWKSVIEAV.  153 

tail  with  delight  and  impatience.  Clara  went  to 
call  him  in  oat  of  the  cold,  and  just  as  she  got  to 
the  porch  wearj  little  Birdjfute  appeared  at  the 
gate.  "Here  I  am,  mother,"  cri^d  he;  "I  was 
determined  they  should  not  keep  me."  Clara 
clasped  him  in  her  arms,  and  half  tearful,  half 
laughing,  kissed  his  frosty  cheeks  again  and 
again,  asking,  "How  did  you  come,  my  darling!" 

"  Walked  all  the  way,  mother.  I've  run  away 
from  school!"  was  the  sturdy  reply. 

"My  boy!  you  might  have  been  lost  in  the 
snow  on  that  dreadful  moor,  I  am  glad ;  but, 
love,  what  will  your  father  say  ?" 

"  If  you  are  glad  I  don't  care  what  he  says. 
I  am  never  going  to  obey  him  again,  that  I  do 
know,"  Birdyfute  announced ;  and  being  come 
into  the  warm  bright  parlor,  he  let  his  mother 
seat  him  in  her  own  chair  by  the  fire,  and 
kneeling  before  him,  chafe  his  stiffened  hands, 
while  the  melting  snow  dripped  from  his  clothing 
in  tiny  rills. 

"  Mr.  "VVarrendar  will  write  to  your  father, 
Birdyfute;  what  shall  we  do  by  and  bye?"  said 
Clara, ♦whosejo}''  was  poisoned  by  the  thought. 

"  Never  mind  if  he  does,  mother — I  don't.  I 
shall  have  to  go  back  I  suppose,  but  I  am  here 
vioioy"  and  not  to  spoil  his  enjoyment  she  tried 
not  to  sec  the  skeleton  in   the  back  ground,  and 


154  HAWKSVIE^'. 

to  be  as  gaj  as  he  was.  Tliey  even  had  a  huif^li 
together,  and  more  than  one,  for  Osythe  insisted 
on  Birdytutc's  changing  into  some  dry  clotlies, 
and,  when  lie  c^ie  down  in  them,  they  were  fonnd 
to  be  half  way  up  between  his  ancles  and  knees, 
while  liis  jacket  sleeves  could  not  by  any  arts 
of  persuasion  be  brought  within  many  inches  of 
his  wrists.  Clara  said  she  should  henceforward 
always  love  a  scarecrow  for  his  sake,  he  was  so 
like  one;  and  he  told  her  that  nearly  all  j\[r. 
AVarrendar's  boys  wore  their  things  until  they 
were  thus  picturesquely  outgrown.  Osythe  made 
some  festive  prejjarations  for  tea,  and  altogether 
it  was  the  happiest  night  they  had  since  they 
came  to  llawksview.  Birdyfute  was  in  fluent 
sjurits,  and  related  his  experience  at  Boothe 
with  a  gusto  and  fun  that  almost  infected  his 
mittlier.  "And  you  were  not  miserable  then?" 
said  she  amazed. 

"O!  no,  not  after  the  first  dav.  What  jiood 
yule  cake  this  is,  mother." 

"I  am  ghid  you  like  it,  dear,  and  Osythe  will 
be  glad  too — she  is  very  kind  now  to  me.  Did 
they  give  you  enough  to  eat,  Birdyfute?"  • 

"  Yes ;  j)orridge  and  clap-cake.  Mother,  do 
you  know  what  'toadinyho'  is?" 

"Ko,  love;  what  a  very  dieagreeable  name  I 
Is  it  something  to  eat  f* 


HAWKS  VIEW.  155 

"Yes;  it  is  tough  beef  baked  in  stick-jaw. 
And  there  was  Saturday's  dinner,  which  was  all 
the  scraps  and  scrapings  minced  up,  and  seasoned 
with  Fluffy 's  old  boots  and  leath#caps." 

"  And  who  was  Fluffy,  dear?" 

"  Old  Warrendar  himself.  He  is  always  stuck 
over  with  bits  of  feather  and  down,  as  if  he  went  to 
bed  in  his  clothes.   You  should  see  him,  mother." 

"  I  have  seen  him,  Birdyfute — seen  him  twice  ;" 
and  then  she  detailed  her  two  ineffectual  visits  to 
Buothe,  which  made  tlie  boy  explode  with  passion. 

"If  I  had  on\y  known,  darling  mother,  I  would 
have  come  before  tliis,"  cried  he.  "  Why  did 
you  not  give  tongue  ?  Fluffy  could  not  have 
kept  me  in  if  I  had  heard  you  were  there.  Do 
you  know  what  I  am  going  to  do  when  I  am 
a  man  ?" 

"  Something  very  desperate  from  your  face, 
Birdyfute;  what  is  it?" 

"  I  am  going  to  buy  the  biggest  horsewhip  that 
can  be  had  for  money,  and  to  flog  old  Fluffy 
round  Boothe  with  it."  This  terrific  resolve 
being  communicated  with  impressive  sternness, 
Birdyfute  again  addressed  himself  to  Osythe's 
excellent  yule  cakes,  which  disappeared  before 
him  like  leaves  before  locusts.  Clara  said  it  did  her 
good  to  see  him  ;  and  while  watching  his  hearty 
boyish  enjoyment  she  forgot  her  own  cares. 


I'.C  .  1IA-\VKSVI1:W, 

"Do  you  like  beiiif^  at  school  among  so  many 
people  V  she  asked  him,  and  ho  replied,  yes, 
they  often  had  great  fun.  "But  if  your  father 
thoukl  want  to  send  you  a  long  way  off,  where 
you  would  learu  foreign  languages  that  might  lielp 
you  when  you  are  a  soldier,  would  you  like  that?'' 

"  Yes ;  Wellington  was  at  school  at  Angers, 
and  Napoleon  was  at  Brienne,  where  they  played 
at  sieges  and  battles;  the  fellows  at  old  Fliilfy's 
never  would,  though  I  tried  them.  You  shall  sec 
what  a  fortification  I'll  make  with  snow  to- 
morrow, mother ;  and  you  and  old  Osythe  and 
Random  may  besiege  me ;  but  I'm  sure  you'll 
not  be  able  to  take  it." 

•  Birdyfute  certainly  had  fewer  qualms  of  con- 
science than  ever  irked  runaway  school  boy 
before.  If  he  had  come  home  in  the  most  legiti- 
mate and  orthodox  manner  possible,  he  could 
not  have  enjoyed  more  frankly  and  liberally  the 
charms  of  freedom,  Clara  regarded  him  with 
mingled  pleasure  and  ])ain  ;  nevermore  would  he 
be  her  clinging  nestling  pet;  he  would  be  in 
time,  what  was  far  better,  a  strong-hearted  pro- 
tector both  to  himself  and  her  ;  one  who  would 
neither  be  cowed  by  bravado  nor  broken  by 
persecution. 

If  only  there  had  been  no  to-niorrow?  But  as 
Clara  and  Birdyfute  were  walking  to  and  fro  upon 


IIAWKSVIF.W.  157 

the  terrace  in  the  afternoon,  Captain  Vescey  rode 
in  at  the  gate.  "Ah!  an  unexpected  pleasure!" 
cried  he,  bowing  satirically  to  his  son. 

Clara  ran  hastily  up  to  him,  and  keeping  by 
his  horse's  side  to  the  door,  whispered  in  accents 
of  entreaty,  "  Don't  be  angry  with  him,  Marma- 
duke,  it  was  my  fault."  But  Birdyfute  heard 
her,  and  interrupted,  "  JSTo,  mother,  it  was  not ;  I 
came  of  my  own  accord." 

His  father  smiled  grimly.  "Do  you  know 
what  is  the  customary  reward  of  runaway  school- 
boys?" asked  he. 

"  A  good  thrashing,  I  suppose,"  was  the  un- 
daunted reply. 

"Exactly  so.  You  expected  it —  well,  I  won't 
disappoint  you,"  and  the  Captain  dismounted. 
"  You  had  better  go  away,"  added  he,  turning  to 
Clara,  who  clung  to  his  arm  and  attempted  to  take 
away  his  whip.  "  I  promise  you  it  shall  be  a  good 
one !" 

No,  no,  Marmaduke,  do  forgive  him  this  time, 
only  this  time,"  supplicated  she,  without  loosen- 
ing her  hold ;  he  tried  to  untwist  her  lingers 
but  failed,  and  they  went  into  the  parlor,  the  lad 
following  close  behind. 

"I  must  say  you  are  very  bold,  sir,"  said  his 
father,  looking  at  him  over  his  shoulder.  Birdy- 
fute lauffhed. 


158  IrA^VKS^^EW. 

"Tou  may  flog  me  if  yon  like,  it  is  over  in 
five  minutes.  I  have  plenty  of  it  at  old  Flufly's, 
and  don't  care,"  said  he  carelessly. 

"You  are  a  thuroui^libnid  Yescey  !  I  never 
minded  a  threshing  myself.  You  have  not  quite 
spoilt  him,  Clara."'  This  was  said  -with  a  genial 
air,  but  M-ith  fell  purpose,  notwithstanding.  For 
an  instant,-  thinking  that  he  had  relented,  his 
wife  relaxed  her  lu^ld,  when  he  immediately 
seized  his  son,  and  gave  him  in  full  measure  the 
meed  of  runaway  schoolboys. 

Birdyfute  bore  the  infliction  courageously  ;  and 
as  soon  as  it  ee^ised  said,  "  There,  mother,  don't 
cry,  it  is  over  already."  Then  facing  sharply 
Ifround  upon  his  father,  he  added,  "  You  are 
more  spiteful  and  cowardly  than  bully  Slee  at  old 
Fluff'y'sl"  Having  vented  which  expression  of 
filial  respect  and  affection,  he  shook  himself,  and 
looked  as  if  nothing  had  happened.  The  Cap- 
tain made  as  though  he  did  not  lieai-;  but  the 
words  burning  his  face  as  if  an  equal  had  struck 
him,  and  old  Osythe,  meeting  him  on  the  stairs 
witii  tiie  remark  that  he  had  made  a  "bonny  be- 
ginning," did  not  contribute  to  compose  him. 
He  did  tcc-l  a  very  mean,  despicable  personage 
indeed,  and  not  caring  to  encounter  Clara  or 
liirdyfute  again  just  then,  he  bade  Osythe  tell 
his  groom  to  saddle  him  a  second  horse,  that  he 


IIAWKSVIKW.  .  159 

might  ride  over  to  Boscombe  to  see  Squire 
B  rough. 

"  You  may  spare  yourself  the  trouble,  master," 
the  old  woman  informed  him  ;  "  for  there's  not  a 
door  from  one  end  o'  Astondale  to  the  other  but 
what  is  shut  against  you.  Folks  ha'  talked  sin' 
you  went  awa'." 

"  Talked !"  cried  he,  with  the  addition  of  an 
oath ;  and  what  have  the  meddlesome  fools 
found  to  say  about  me  ?" 

"  Only  the  truth,  master.  They  say  your  wife 
has  thousands  upon  thousands  to  her  fortune,  and 
you  keep  her  in  a  poor  bit  of  a  cottage,  and 
send  her  son  to  school  wi'  all  the  riff-rafl'  o'  the 
countryside,  while  you  take  her  money  and  spend 
it  or  hoard  it  for  yourself.  You  ha'  fine  car- 
riages and  horses,  and  maybe  somewhat  more 
away  in  London,  while  she  rides  about  the  coun- 
try in  a  spring-cart,  while  your  son  tramps  over 
the  moors  nine  lans;  miles  throus^h  the  snow  to 
see  her,  and  you  flog  him  for  it — that's  what  folk 
say,  and  I  think  myself  they're  in  the  right  of 
it." 

Captain  Yesce}'  did  not  care  to  listen  to  any 
more  home-truths  of  ihis  nature,  so  he  bade 
Osythe  go  about  her  business,  and  shut  himself 
up  in  his  dressing-room.  He  was  taken  entirely 
by  surprise,  and  felt  uncomfortably  that  it  might 


ICO  IIAWKPVIKW. 

become  dangerous  to  coiitimic  his  oppressions,  if 
his  wife  liad  a  party  in  her  favor.  After  all,  her 
life  was  of  incalculal)le  value  to  him.  It  was 
short-sighted  to  waste  it  in  anxiety  and  mi^^cry 
when  he  could  so  easily  make  her  contented. 
After  a  brief  cogitation,  he  re-entered  tire  parlor 
where  Birdyfute  and  his  mother  were.  Neither 
took  the  slightest  notice  of  his  entrance ;  and 
assuming  a  gay,  debonnaire  tone  and  manner,  he 
presently  said,  "You  have  had  your  due,  my  son, 
now  we  will  be  friends,  if  3'ou  please.  Come  and 
shake  hands."  Clara  whispered  him  to  go  ;  but 
the  lad  was  Icss/orgiving,  and  would  not.  "  Be 
it  as  you  will  I"  said  the  Captain,  coolh'.  "  Clara, 
I  have  a  world  of  business  to  talk  over  with  you 
when  3'Ou  arc  at  liijcrty  to  listen.  I  have  just 
come  from  Otterbourne,  and  find  all  the  place 
is  going  to  rack  and  ruin  under  its  present 
tenants ;  we  must  make  a  change  of  some  kind. 
AVliat  do  you  say  to  our  going  to  live  tjiere  our- 
selves?" 

"  Arej'ou  in  earnest,  ]\[arinaduke  ?"  asked  Clara, 
bewildered  by  this  unlooked  for  gleam  of  good 
himior  and  good  sense. 

"Certainly.  Birdyfute  let  your  mother's  hand 
go.  CoMje  to  the  fireside,  Clara,  and  let  the 
curtains  be  closed."  Slie  obeyed  reluctantly  ;  and 
us   she   passed    lier   liusband's   chair  he  put  his 


HAWKS  VIEW.  161 

arm  round  her,  and  whispered,  "  You  must  not 
quarrel  with  me.  That  bo}'  shall  be  brought  to 
reason.  It  is  necessary  for  his  own  good  ;  but 
if  it  pains  you,  we  will  not  speak  of  it  any  more 
now." 

"  Yqs,  we  will,  Marmaduke.  It  is  far  more  to 
me  than  going  to  Otterbourne  ;"  replied  she,  Avith 
trembling  resolution.  "  Birdyfute  likes  school. 
Mr.  Bohun  says  it  will  be  beneficial  to  send  him 
abroad,  and  I  am  glad  that  he  should  go.  I 
can  bear  to  part  with  him  altogether  ;  but  to  see 
h'nn  the  object  of  a  cruel  capricious  tyranny  at 
home  would  kill  me."  Captain  Yescey  was  quite 
taken  aback  by  this  address,  and  began  to  swear 
and  bluster  at  what  he  called  his  wife's  insolence. 
"  You  will  not  frighten  me,  Marmaduke,  I  know 
you  now ;"  rejoined  she,  white,  but  determined. 
"  If  you  will  keep  terms  with  me,  I  will  do  the 
same  by  you  ;  but  Birdyfute  shall  not  suffer  any 
more  either  by  your  hardness,  or  my  folly.  Seek 
a  school  fit  for  him,  and  he  shall  go  away  to  be 
out  of  jour  power ;  and  you  may  take  me  to 
Otterbouriie  or  imprison  me  here,  just  as  you 
prefer.  While  he  is  safe,  I  defy  you  to  make  me 
suffer."  And  twining  her  arm  round  her  child, 
she  drew  him  away  from  the  room. 

Captain  Vescey  had  not  anticipated  this  de- 
monstration of  feeling  on  his  wife's  part,  and  it 


162  HAWK8VIEW. 

took  him  several  days  to  recover  from  it.  It  im- 
]>k'asantly  suggested  tliat  he  had  tbrt'eited  tlie 
only  hold  over  her  by  which  a  woman  can  be  eflfec- 
tually  guided — namely,  her  love ;  and  he  would 
have  been  extremely  ghid  to  retrace  a  few  lost 
steps,  could  he  have  done  so  with  dignity..  If  he 
had  forgiven  Birdyfutc  at  her  entreaties,  it  would 
have  been  a  great  gain  in  influence  to  him  ;  but 
that  last  act  of  cruelty  had  taught  her  that  she  had 
nothing  to  expect  from  his  forboarance  or  manly 
feeling.  Tliis  was  not,  however,  the  vicM'  he  took 
of  his  position.  The  information  that  Osythc 
had  given  him  touching  the  general  sentiments 
on  his  conduct,  made  him  suspect  that  Clara 
liad  found  friends,  whose  counsels  endowed  her 
with  a  factitious  strength,  which  would  full  her 
when  tlieir  supj)ort  was  withdrawn  ;  and  this  he 
resolved  it  should  speedily  be  by  her  removal  out 
of  their  sphere.  The  averted  or  unfriendly  faces 
that  he  met  in  the  hunting-field  the  first  time 
he  made  his  api)earance  tJierc  after  his  return 
onl}'  quickened  his  proceedings,  and  he  intimated 
to  Clara  that  they  were  to  leave  Ilawksview  im- 
mediately. 

During  the  last  week  of  the  old  year  Boscombe 
and  the  neighborhood  talked  of  little  else  but 
the  departure  of  the  Vesceys.  Birdyfute  was 
down  at  the  rectory  daily  '4  and  he  told  Agues 


HAWK8VIEW.  •  163 

that  he  was  going  to  Germany,  and  that  his 
mother  would  live  at  Otterbourne.  He  seemed 
in  high  spirits,  and  never  breathed  a  word  of  com- 
plaint against  his  father — never  alluded  to  him 
by  name  at  all.  It  was  considered  very  mysteri- 
ous that  Clara,  after  her  husband's  arrival,  did 
not  appear  at  church  or  elsewhere.  Some  said 
she  was  ill,  others  that  she  was  kept  in  rigorous 
imprisonment ;  but  the  fact  was  the  same  in  either 
case.  ITobody  saw  her;  she  paid  no  farewell 
visits,  and  even  Agnes,  who  went  up  to  bid  her 
good  bye,  was  not  admitted.  The  exact  day  of 
their  departure  was  not  known  at  the  time,  and 
Agnes  only  guessed  by  the  cessation  of  Birdy- 
fute's  visits.  Osythe  Dobbie  stayed  in  charge 
of  Hawksview ,  and  when  the  family  had  been 
gone  a  month,  the  old  house  put  on  again  its  for- 
mer look  of  haunted  desolation,  while  the  events 
of  the  last  six  months  receded  into  the  romantic 
mists  of  things  bye-past.  Agnes,  in  reverting  to 
them,  would  sometimes  remark  that  they  had  the 
unreal  complexion  of  a  dream  or  a  play,  rather  than 
the  sharp  significance  of  passages  in  a  life  drama 
in  which  she  had  taken  a  part,  and  wonder 
whether  the  changes  and  chances  of  the  world 
would  ever  again  bring  her  into  communication 
with  the  actors  therein.  Vague  wishes  predicted 
that  they  would. 


Wixxt  tite  ^i?f0Utl. 


HAWKSVIKW.  ^G7 


CHAPTER  I. 

Miss  Sage  Booty,  the  perpetual  tliorn  in  tlie 
flesh  to  Boscombe  curates,  has  been  ah-eady  al- 
luded to  as  persecuting  the  Honorable  and  Rever- 
end Roger  Bohun  witli  all  her  might  and  main, 
from  the  very  first  week  of  his  coming  to  the  rec- 
tory ;  but  Roger  had  given  his  liostages  to  fortune, 
and  it  behoved  him  to  keep  the  respectable  main- 
tenance he  had  acquired  ;  so,  though  it  was  a  sore 
trial  to  his  masculine  patience,  he  bore  her  stings 
with  the  fortitude  of  a  martyr,  until,  after  six 
months  were  fairly  over,  there  came  a  lull,  as 
of  vexed  and  wearied  astonishment  on  the  part 
of  the  enemy,  who,  seeing  that  Roger  Bohun 
was  not  to  be  ousted  by  the  same  means  as  had 
driven  his  predecessors  to  a  prompt  retreat,  sud- 
denly changed  her  tactics,  and  insisted  on  being 
allowed  to  patronise  him.  She  invited  him  and 
Agnes  to  dine  at  the  Moat  house,  and  told  her 
friends  confidentially  that  she*  was  trying  to  form 


lOS  IIAM'KSVIKW.  ^ 

the  poor  interesting  young  tliingt?,  who  were  more 
ignorant  and  inexperienced  than  any  body  woukl 
imagine,  who  liad  not  made  human  nature  their 
study  as  she  had  done.  Some  people,  who  be- 
lieved in  Miss  Sage  Booty  as  an  infallible  rural 
Pope,  followed  her  modest  example,  and  oli'cred 
Agnes  receipts,  patterns,  and  advice  of  an  elemen- 
tary character  until  they  were  compelled  to  see 
that,  girl  as  she  was,  she  had  more  sense, 
energy,  and  cleverness  than  had  ever  been  dis- 
covered in  a  Boscombe  curate's  wife  before  ;  and 
this  conclusion  arrived  at,  she  became  quite  a 
popular  person. 

In  the  midst  of  this  golden  time,  there  came 
into  the  world  at  the  rectory  a  little  son.  If  ever 
fate  shone  auspicious  on  any  birth-day,  it  did  on 
this.  It  was  in  the  earliest  spring;  just  when  the 
first  violets  begin  to  o})en  amongst  the  moss,  and 
the  birds  began  to  carol  for  joy  of  winter  past. 
A  fine  e(iuare  faced,  large-eyed  boy  he  was,  in 
the  sturdiest  health,  and  of  the  most  solid  good 
temper;  a  blessing  which  all  tlie  household  thor- 
oughly appreciated.  Mona,  independent  enough 
now  to  sit  on  the  hearth  rug,  building  up  wonder- 
ful architectural  devices  from  a  box  of  wooden 
bricks,  was  of  the  same  placid  order — a  little 
resolute  and  wilful  now  and  then,  perhaps — but 
never  fretful   or  peevish.     They  were  as  good  as 


HAWKS  VIKW.  IGU 

gold,  nurse  Beste  was  in  the  habit  of  saying;  and 
though  they  had  plenty  of  spirit,  it  was  spirit  of 
the  right  sort,  and  would  never  harm  either  them- 
selves or  any  body  else.  They  had  inherited  the 
benefit  of  all  tlie  holy  and  gracious  influences 
that  surrounded  Roger  and  his  wife,  and  came 
into  the  world  God's  gifts  indeed,  with  as  few  of 
the  foreshadowing  of  evil  and  mischance  as 
children  could  have,  and  Agnes  rejoiced  over 
them  with  joy  unutterable,  and  full  of  thank- 
fulness. 

It  was  reserved  for  the  little  boy-baby  to  bring 
about  a  perfect  understanding  with  that  crook  in 
his  parent's  lot,  the  ever-active  Miss  Sage  Booty. 
That  lady  happened  to  call  at  the  rectory  about 
an  hour  after  he  had  made  his  debut  on  the  stage 
of  life,  and  saw  Roger  walking  about  the  garden 
in  charge  of  Mona,  who  was  in  a  perfectly  explo- 
sive state  of  delight  at  the  idea  of  a  little 
brother  to  play  with.  The  curate  met  her  at  the 
gate,  and  announced  with  paternal  pride,  "It  is 
a  boy  tliis  time.  Miss  Sage  Booty." 

"O!  may  I  be  god-mother?  Please^  may  I  be 
god-mother  ?"  cried  she,  ecstatically ;  and  Roger 
actually  pledged  himself  that  she  should,  without 
considering  what  his  wife's  views  might  be. 

Miss  Sage  Booty  had  a  little  kci-nel  of  heart 
hidden   somewhere   in   her    analomy ;    and    she 
8 


170  II A  w  Ks  V  m.  w .  0 

drove  home,  feeling  as  if  she  had  acquired  a 
proj>erty  in  one  liuman  being  tliat  nobody  could 
deprive  her  of.  The  next  morning  she  sent  for 
her  solicitor,  and  added  a  codicil  to  her  will,  to 
the  detriment  of  the  l\cverend  Augustus  J'lavdes' 
expectations  ;  and  on  the  day  of  the  christening 
she  appeared  at  the  rectory  with  silver-mounted 
coral,  silver  mug,  candle  cup,  minute  knife,  fork 
and  spoon  in  velvet-lined  morocco  case,  and  a 
purse  like  a  testimonial,  containing  a  hundred 
new  sovereigns,  all  of  M-liich  she  laid  down  at 
baby's  feet.  lie  was  named  Tristan  at  her  special 
desire.  "A  strange  heathenish  mime  for  a 
Christian  bairn,"  remarked  nurse  Beste;  "but  a 
pretty  sounding  name,  too,  let  Avhat  would  come 
of  it."  All  the  officials  she  fee'd  magniticenth- ; 
and  after  dinner  she  made  a  speech  which  did 
equal  honor  to  her  heart  and  her  head,  expressive 
of  her  determination  to  jxjrform  every  duty  to 
which  she  had  that  day  publicly  pledged  herself, 
in  the  most  immaculate  manner.  She  would 
probably  have  become  very  difi'use  on  her 
favorite  theme  of  education,  had  not  Eli  Burton 
and  Squire  Brough,  who  acted  as  godfathers  on 
the  occasion,  by  a  timely  "  Hear,  hear  I"  checked 
her  pathetic  fluency. 

From  that  day  forth  there  was  peace  between 
the   rectory   and    the   Moat-house,  except  when 


IIAWKSVIEW.  171 

Agnes  objected  to  the  multiplicity  and  costliness 
of  Miss  Sage  Booty's  gifts  to  the  baby,  and  was 
peremptorily  bidden  not  to  interfere  with  what 
was  no  business  of  hers.  She  brought  endless 
series  of  braided  and  embroidered  coats,  resplen- 
dent sashes,  and  more  feathered  hats  than  the 
little  thing  could  have  worn  if  it  had  been  Cer- 
berus ;  she  laid  in  stores  of  amusing  and  im- 
proving picture-books  and  toys  of  every  descnp- 
tion,  and,  in  short,  gave  up  her  whole  energetic 
mind  to  the  cultivation  of  the  baby.  It  was 
delicious  to  see  her  handle  it ;  at  first  gingerly,  as 
if  it  were  a  red-hot  chesnut,  and  afterward, 
gathering  courage,  as  if  it  were  a  sagacious  dog, 
patting  it  on  the  head,  clapping  it  on  the  back, 
and  making  a  queer,  abortive,  whistling  noise  to 
please  it.  Tristan  would  sit  in  her  lap,  looking 
as  grave  as  a  judge,  with  great  solemn  eyes  fixed 
on  her  face,  as  if  he  were  reflecting  on  its  pecu- 
liarities ;  then  Miss  Sage  Booty  would  ask  nurse 
Beste,  whose  heart  she  had  completely  won,  what 
the  innocent  morsel  could  be  thinking  about,  and 
wish  prematurely  that  it  could  speak  and  explain 
itself.  As  a  student  of  human  nature,  she  was 
very  anxious  for  the  unfolding  of  this  tender  little 
bud,  and  many  tantalizing  disappointments  had 
she  to  undergo  in  consequence.  She  expected  it 
to  talk  fluently  at  three  months'  old ;  and  as  it 


172  11AWK:5V1EW.  ^ 

could  not  walk  at  six,  slie  would  have  a  surgical 
exaujiuatioii  held  over  it,  whieh  resulted  in  her 
own  contusion  and  baby's  triumphant  acquittal  of 
any  defect.  Ouce,  only  once,  and  Miss  Sage 
Booty  remembered  it  to  her  profit  ever  after,  did 
she  attempt  to  administer  the  universal  Globb. 
She  came  in  after  a  round  of  parochial  visits  with 
the  bottle  in  her  bag,  and  found  baby  suffering 
from  a  little  pain.  Agnes  was  walking  up  and 
down  the  nursery  hushing  it  in  her  arms,  and 
while  her  back  was  turned.  Miss  Sage  Booty 
contrived  to  introduce  a  surreptitious  spoonful 
into  baby's  food,  little  thinking  that  an  old  look- 
ing-glass fastened  against  the  wall  was  betraying 
her  treacherous  act.  Agnes  was.^o  indignant,  she 
threatened  never  to  let  her  enter  the  nursery 
again  ;  and  only  on  receiving  a  meekly  tearful 
apology,  and  a  promise  never,  never,  never  to  do 
it  any  more,  did  the  aggrieved  mother  relax  in 
her  severity,  and  consent  fo  be  appeased.  After 
this  defeat.  Miss  Sage  Booty  put  herself  through 
a  conscientious  course  of  hard  reading  in  the  shape 
of  "  Essays  on  the  Dsseases  of  Children,"  "  Advice 
in  Casualties,"  and  "Directions  for  tiie  Manaire- 
inent  of  Infants,"  that  she  might  be  prepared 
against  every  emergency.  Then  she  undertook  a 
number  of  conflicting  theories,  under  the  head  of 
'*  Hints  ou  Education,"  and  brought  her  mind  into 


#  HAWKSVIEW.  173 

a  helpless  sfate  of  coma,  from  which  she  roused  up 
to  originate  a  royal  road  to  learning  of  her  own. 
Her  next  feat  was  the  purchase  of  a  beautiful  little 
foal,  whose  growth  and  training  she  herself  super- 
intended, with  a  view  to  Tristan's  taking  equestrian 
exercise  when  he  should  be  of  a  fit  age.  Long 
before  that  grand  day  arrived,  however,  Tristan 
had  to  vacate  the  place  of  honor  in  the  house  as 
baby  in  favor  of  another  brother,  Master  Harry 
who,  in  his  turn,  had  to  make  way  for  wee  white- 
haired  Louis. 

Tlie  birth  of  a  second  and  a  third  son  to 
Roger  and  his  wife,  caused  great  heart-burning 
at  Castle  Boliun,  especially  to  the  head  of  the 
house,  who  regarded  the  innocent  nurslings  as 
the  result  of  a  base  conspiracy  to  injure  him  in 
his  dearest  principle,  namely,  the  succession  of 
purely  noble  blood  to  the  ancient  barony.  He 
had  not  been  fortunate  in  his  eldest  born,  the 
Honorable  Basil.  This  young  man,  after  running 
a  brief  course  of  shameful  debauchery,  was  living 
abroad,  nobody  exactly  knew  how  or  where. 
He  had  proposed  to  him  successively,  as  matri- 
monial connections,  the  cross-grained  heiress  of 
the  Clervils,  and  the  third  and  ugly  daughter 
of  the  Duke  of  Rivaux,  the  Lady  Alecto 
Picrrepointe ;  but  the  domestic  virtues  had  no 
charms  for  the  Honorable  Basil,  and  he  declined 


174  HA"SYjvSvii:w. 

them  botli.  "When,  liowever,  the  birth  of  Roger's 
first  boy  was  announced  to  the  old  Lord,  the 
spirit  of  liis  race  cliafed  witliin  him  furiously. 
Basil  i/iuftt  inari'v,  Basil  tt/iot/hl  iiiai'rv,  whether 
he  liked  it  or  not,  he  swore  emphatically.  Then 
he  wrote  to  him,  oflfering  as  a  bribe,  the  payment 
in  full  of  all  his  debts;  and  adjuring  him,  by  the 
stainless  name  and  honor  of  his  race,  to  espouse 
some  noble  lady  without  delay.  But  the  Honor- 
able Jiesil,  though  he  deplored  profoundly  his  in- 
capacity to  avail  himself  of  his  father's  munificent 
douceur,  replied  that  he  had  views  of  his  own  on 
this  momentous  subject,  which  would  prevent 
compliance  with  his  commands  either  then  or  at 
any  future  time. 

'llie  second  son,  Everard,  had  married  carlv, 
a  plain-featured  heiress  of  noble  extraction,  but 
she  had  brought  him  no  children.  The  third, 
Philip,  had,  like  Roger,  disgraced  liimself  b}-  a 
low  marriage,  and  his  wife  liad  produced  him 
only  daughters.  Arthur,  William  and  Richard 
were  all  in  the  army,  and  all  single  men  ;  but 
when  Basil's  rebellious  denial  of  Lord  de  Bohun's 
wishes  was  promulgated,  their  father,  inconven- 
ient as  it  was  to  provide  them  with  establishments, 
immediately  caet  about  to  find  suitable  alliances 
for  them  every  one,  and  they,  more  compliant 
tiiau  their  elder  brother  sought   fur    themselves 


HAWKSVIEW.  175 

wives.  Arthur  united  himself  to  the  widow  of 
Algernon,  Lord  Fortmajne  ;  William  allied  him- 
self with  the  Lady  Alicia  Montferrat,  eleventh 
daughter  of  the  Duke  of  Longminstre ;  and 
Richard  espoused  a  German  dame,  older  than 
himself  by  ten  years  ;  but  of  unimpeachable  an- 
tiquity of  descent.  "When  the  last  of  these  auspi- 
cious marriages  was  concluded,  Lord  de  Bohun 
was  made  perfectly  happy. 

"  There  is  very  small  chance  of  that  lad  of 
Roger's  coming  into  the  barony  now^  thank 
Heaven!"  was  his  devout  aspiration  on  the  oc- 
casion. 

In  due  course  of  time  Richard's  wife  bore  a 
child — a  daughter,  "  worse  than  nothing^''  said 
the  disappointed  grandsii'e ;  and  her  wicked 
example  Avas  shortly  imitated  by  William's 
spouse.  Lady  Alicia  seemed  to  have  a  more 
conscientious  perception  of  what  was  expected 
from  her,  and  she  presented  Ai'thur  with  twin 
boys,  who  unhappily  died  a  few  hours  after  their 
birth.  When  the  old  Lord  heard  of  this  catas- 
trophe he  literally  gnashed  his  teeth  with  rage ; 
and  would  gladly  have  made  all  his  dutiful  sons 
divorce  their  wives  and  marry  again,  if  the  law 
had  not  been  opposed  to  such  a  summary  repu- 
diation. 

From  that  well-omened  midsummer  day,  when 


17C  HAWKSVIEW. 

Koger  and  the  wife  took  possession  of  Boscombe 
Rectory,  seven  years  had  ehipsed,  and  still  the 
only  boys  of  the  younger  generation    belonged 
to  the  t>utcast  son  and    his    despised   helpmate, 
\vhile  the  other  wives   of  the  house,  with  what 
their  father-in-law  denounced   as  irrational    and 
wilful   perversity,  had  only  daughters;    ''little, 
peaking,   good-for-nothing   daughters!"     It   was 
marvelous   how  those    buys    throve    too.     They 
were  the  tallest,  largest,  loveliest  children  in  the 
district ;  and  Agnes,  in  the  midst  of  them,  was 
as  fresh  and  blooming  at  matronly  six-and-twenty 
as  she  had  been  at  maiden  sixteen.     There  had 
been  no  attempt  at  reconciliation  ;  and  with  the 
exception  of  an  annual  present  of  Scotch  tweed 
and  linsey  wolsey  from    Lady  Harriet    Lennox, 
whose  lord  could  scarcely  supply  kail  and  parritch 
to  his  own  numerous  brood,  Koger  got  no  help 
from  his  own  people.     The  said  linsey  woolsey 
was  fashioned    into    frocks    and    tunics    by   the 
deft  and  industrious  fingers  of  Agnes  and  nurse 
Beste,   and  Roger    himself    always    turned    out 
on  week  days  in  a  sober  suit  of  the  dark  tweed. 
Agnes  also  had  gown  and    cloak    of    the    same 
material,  and  might  have  had  a  bonnet  too,  had 
nut  Dunstable    straw   been    cheaper,   and    more 
becoming. 


Jft- 


HAWK8VIEW.  177 


CHAPTER  II.  % 

The  Boliim  children  all  got  their  first  teaching 
from  their  mother ;  but  when  Tristan  could  say 
his   prayers,   repeat  his   catechism,    and    read  a 
chapter  in  the  bible  fluently,  the  curate,  greatly 
to  Miss  Sage  Booty's  disappointment,  announced 
his  intention  of  undertaking  the  boy's  instruction 
himself;  but  having  got  herself  up  for  educational 
purposes,  regardless  of  trouble  and  expense,  and 
disdaining  to   hide  her  talent  in  obscurity,  she 
entreated  Agnes  to  allow  her  to  try  her  skill  on 
little   Mona,  always,  be   it  understood,  beneath 
mamma's  supervision — and  to  this,  consent  was 
given.     The  first  lesson  was  a  lesson  on  objects. 
The  child  was  planted  firmly  on  her  feet  in  front 
of  her  preceptress,  who  fixed  her  witli  her  eye  in 
a  way  that  would  have  utterly  annihilated  any 
less  high  couraged  creature,  but  which  had  not  the 
slightest  efi'ect  on  Mona.  She  shook  back  her  hair 
from  her  face,  dropped  her  little  arms  demurely, 
and  resigned  herself  to  be  made  a  clever  girl  out 


178  HAWKSVIEW. 

of  hand.  Agnes  sat  in  the  back  ground  making 
a  cockade  for  Louis,  and  smiling  doubtfully  for 
the  issue  of  this  undertaking.  At  the  critical 
moment,  with  those  great  sensible  child's  eyes 
upon  her,  Miss  Sage  Booty  began  to  feel  an  awful 
Ecnse  of  the  responsibility  of  her  task,  but  at 
length  she  deliberately  opened  a  card-board  box 
and  took  therefrom  a  magnificent  butterfly 
speared  upon  a  pin.  Tlie  large  eyes  became 
larger  than  ever  at  this  sight,  and  traveled  slowly 
round  to  mamma,  who  drew  a  little  nearer  to 
profit  by  the  lesson  also. 

'•"What  is  this,  Mona  F'  asked  the  teacher, 
pointing  with  a  skinny  forefinger  at  the  impaled 
insect. 

"  Butterfly,"  replied  Mona,  with  sedate  promp- 
titude. 

"  Diptera ;  insect,  having  two  wings  and  two 
elevated  alteres  or  balances  behind  each.  I  don't 
see  the  alteres,  but  there  arc  the  wings.  Blair's 
Preceptor,  where  I  learnt  that  a  butterfly  is  a 
diptera,  omits  to  give  an  illustration.  Kow, 
Mona,  what  has  it  wings  for  '(" 

"To  fly  with.     Let  it  oil"  that  paper,  please." 

"  It  does  not  wish  to  go,  it  is  dead.  Can  you 
tell  me  who  made  this  pretty  butterfly,  my  dear?" 

"  God  made  it.  I  want  to  know  who  killed 
it  ?"  said  the  child,  breathless  and  interested. 


HAWKSVIEW.  179 

Miss  Sage  Booty  tried  to  avoid  the  query  and 
pass  on.  The  fact  was,  she  had  netted  and  killed 
the  insect  herself  for  the  illustration  of  this  very 
lesson,  not  anticipating  a  counter  catechism  such 
as  seemed  impending.  It  was  very  kind  of  God 
to  make  this  butterfly  for  Mona  to  look  at,  was 
it  not  ?"  said  she,  with  grammatical  precision. 

"  He  made  it  to  fly  in  the  garden,  and  it  was 
naughty  to  kill  it.  Mamma  told  Tristan  he  must 
not  kill  butterflies,"  was  the  response. 

Poor  Miss  Sage  Booty  was  confounded ;  she 
said  that  would  do  for  that  morning,  and  became 
vitally  interested  in  Louis's  cockade.  The  butter- 
fly was  left  on  the  table,  and  Mona  was  left  by 
the  butterfly  regarding  it.  There  she  stood,  her 
hands  clasped  behind  her,  and  her  face  settled 
into  an  expression  of  precocious  gravity  and 
thoughtfulness.  She  had  not  much  of  the  dimpled 
waxen  prettiness  so  greatly  admired  in  little 
children  ;  her  eyes  were  like  her  mother's,  dark 
blueish  grey,  with  a  peculiar  steadfast  gaze,  her 
forehead  was  large,  frank,  and  open  and  her  other 
features  were  tolerably  regular ;  but  it  was  the 
ricli  glow  of  transparent  color,  the  bloom,  elasti- 
city, and  radiance  of  perfect  health  that  made  her 
what  everybody  acknowledged  her  to  be,  namely, 
a  gloriously  beautiful  child.  Her  limbs  were 
lengthy,  brown,  strong  and  full,  of  a  supple  grace. 


ISO  HAAVKSVIEW. 

No  matter  iuto  what  attitude  she  dropt,  that  atti- 
tude was,  for  tlie  time  being,  tlie  most  exquisitely 
])icturesque  that  could  be  imagined.  Miss  Sage 
I'ootj  watched  her  with  secret  uneasiness, 
troubled  by  a  dawning  perception  that  there 
might  be  depths  even  in  a  child's  mind  which  all 
her  philosophy  could  not  fathom.  The  insect, 
motionless,  yet  vivid  in  color  as  when  fluttering 
about  amongst  the  trees  of  the  garden,  was  quite 
a  new  idea  to  Mona.  If  it  had  looked  tarnished, 
or  if  its  golden  wings  had  drooped  flaccidly  she 
might  have  understood  it,  but  it  was  in  tlie  act  to 
fly.  She  put  forth  a  careful  finger  and  touched 
it ;  then  she  took  it  up,  blew  on  it  softly,  and 
seeing  that  had  no  efi'ect,  she  carried  it  to  a 
window  where  was  a  basket  of  flowering  plant?, 
and  laid  it  on  the  broad  leaf  of  a  scarlet  j;erauiuni. 
For  five  patient  minutes  longer  she  stood  consid- 
ering it,  to  find,  apparently,  whether  proximity 
to  the  gay  blossoms  would  revive  it;  but  per- 
ceiving that  it  continued  unstirred,  she  quietly 
restored  it  to  the  box  from  wliicli  it  had  been 
taken,  and  sliut  it  up.  As  she  did  so  Ijer  glance 
slKtt  straiglit  across  to  Miss  Sage  Booty  and  their 
eyes  met. 

*'  Could  I  not  learn  from  live  butterflies  as  well 
as  dead  ones?  I  like  them  ever  so  much  better," 
eaid  Mona,  distinctly. 


HAWKSVIEW.  181 

"  Yes,  dear,  yes.  But  come  now  and  repeat 
me  your  new  hymn,"  hastily  replied  the  precep- 
ti-ess.  "  I  will  tell  you  more  about  butterflies 
another  day." 

Mona  complied  immediately ;  but  Miss  Sage 
Booty  felt  that  the  child  knew  she  had  killed  the 
insect,  and  that  her  thoughts  were  running  upon 
it  all  the  time  she  was  reciting  the  verses.  There 
was,  indeed,  a  staightforward  sagacity  about 
Mona,  as  about  many  young  children,  that  was 
very  difficult  to  baffle.  Already  the  elements  of 
her  character  had  begun  to  develop  themselves ; 
she  was  earnestly  truthful,  frankly  affectionate ; 
much  given  to  protecting  and  defending  whatever 
was  smaller  and  weaker  than  herself;  proud, 
sensitive,  impatient  of  control,  and  sometimes 
wilful  and  wayward.  Her  breadth  of  character, 
so.  to  speak,  M'as  pleasant,  open  and  free  as  the 
beautiful  scenery  amidst  which  her  childhood  was 
passed ;  and  it  was  suffused  with  the  genial 
warmth  and  glow  of  a  loving  and  happy  home; 
but  its  delicate  shades,  its  minute  touches,  arose 
out  of  accidental  impressions,  scarcely  perceptible 
when  received,  perhaps,  but  adding,  as  stroke  by 
stroke,  to  the  harmonious  individuality  of  the 
whole.  Just  as  the  hymn  came  to  an  end,  Roger 
entered  the  room  with  Squire  Brongh.  The  latt(>r 
carried  a  pretty  little  lady's  riding-whip,  mounted 


182  UAWKSTIEW. 

Avith  a  stag's  head  in  gold,  wliicli  lie  laid  play- 
fully across  Moiui's  shoulders,  asking  if  she  had 
been  a  good  girl  at  her  lessons  that  day.  Miss 
Sage  Booty,  who  was  in  mortal  terror  of  any 
further  reference  to  the  murdered  butterfly, 
liastened  to  state  that  she  was  always  good ;  an 
assertion  which  the  mischievous  spark  in  Mona's 
eyes  as  promptly  contradicted.  She  seized  the 
whip  in  her  fingers  as  it  was  again  descending, 
and  cried  out  with  delight.  "  Is  it  for  me  ?  01 
mamma,  when  may  I  ride?  1  do  so  want  to 
ride." 

"■  What  a  pity  she  was  not  born  a  boy.  She 
would  have  made  a  noble  boy !''  said  Squire 
Brough,  eyeing  her  with  immense  favor. 

''I  am  very  content  with  my  little  girl  as  she 
is,"  rejoined  Agnes,  aftectionately ;  "she  "will 
comfort  lier  mother  when  the  boys  leave  homp." 

Roger  .lifted  the  child  upon  his  knee,  and 
permitted  her  to  try  the  temper  of  her  M'hip 
across  his  boot.  When  tired  of  that  exercise,  she 
looked  at  her  motlier  with  a  pretty  persistance, 
and  reiterated,  "  When  may  I  ride,  mamma?" 

"Darling,  ask  papa.  Roger  you  must  not 
make  a  tomboy  of  her,"  said  Agnes,  reluctantly. 
This  being  tantamount  to  consent,  Mona  clapped 
her  hands  for  joy,  showing -that  her  mothers 
warning  against   tvuihoyhui  was   not  altogether 


HAWKSYILW.  183 

uncalled  for.  Her  frolic  was  rather  apt  to  pass 
into  wildness — a  result  not  much  to  be  wondered 
at,  when  we  remember  she  had  only  boy  play- 
mates. 

Indeed,  at  any  moment  slie  would  abandon  her 
doll  for  a  game  at  horses,  or  a  slide,  or  a  climb  up 
into  the  yew-tree  in  the  garden,  where  she  would 
sit  throned  like  a  queen,  refusing  to  come  down 
for  all  nurse  Beste's  coaxing,  commands,  and 
expostulations.  Squire  Brougli,  whose  prime 
favorite  she  was,  encouraged  her  in  all  these 
pranks,  predicting  that  she  would  come  out  in 
the  end  as  pure,  gentle,  and  gracious  a  pattern  of 
womanhood  as  her  mother ;  the  only  perfect  wife, 
he  averred  that  he  had  ever  seen,  except  his  own 
dear  deceased  Dulcibella. 

Tlie  entrance  of  Tristan,  noisy  and  rosy,  enabled 
Miss  Sage  Booty  quietly  to  possess  herself  of  the 
butterfly  box,  and  to  glide  off,  as  she  thouglit 
unperceived,  while  Mona  was  busy  showing  her 
brother  her  whip ;  but  before  she  had  gone  half 
way  down  the  garden  walk,  the  cliild  was  after 
her  crying  out,  "  Mammie,  when  will  be  my  next 
lesson  ?     Kiss  and  make  friends." 

Miss  Sage  Booty,  who  was  not  overwhelmed 
with  affectionate  relatives,  thought  that  "  kiss  and 
make  friends"  of  little  Mona  the  prettiest  phrase 
in  the  language.     She  alw^ivs  used  it  either  when 


184  HAWKSVIEW. 

she  had  been  naughty  herself,  or  any  body  had 
grieved  her.  It  seemed  as  if  lier  heart  were  too 
tender  to  keep  a  wrong  feeling  in  it  long. 

"Do  you  like  my  lessons,  Pet?"  asked  the 
delighted  teacher.  Moua  was  not  prepared  to 
say  "yes''  after  the  issue  of  the  present  one  ;  but 
she  said,  "  come  again  soon,"  which  was  almost  as 
ifattering,  and  then  ran  oft'  to  rejoin  Tristan. 

But  the  second  lesson  proved  no  more  of  a 
success  than  the  first.  It  was  on  bible  history  ; 
and  the  preceptress,  daunted  by  the  result  of  her 
former  attempt  at  original  illustration,  determined 
henceforward  to  teach  entirely  by  book.  They, 
in  consequence,  got  entangled  in  a  difficulty 
about  the  witely  merits  of  Rebecca,  whom  the 
catechism  explicitly  declared  to  have  been  "  a 
very  good  woman."  Mona  doubted  this,  and 
said  she  taught  her  boy  to  tell  lies  and  deceive 
his  father.  Ifer  mamma  did  not  do  so,  and  she 
was  sure  it  was  naught}'. 

It  did  not  occur  to  Miss  Sage  Booty  to  point 
out  the  obviwus  lessons  demonstrated  by  the  life- 
long separation  of  the  mother  from  her  best- 
behjvcd  son  ;  or  tlie  sore  punishment  that  after- 
ward befel  that  son  in  the  base  tiliul  ingi-atitudo 
of  many  of  his  own  children.  She  was  only 
bewildered  ;  and  reiterated  the  statement  that 
Kebeccd  was  a  very  good  wojnan,  which  left  a 


HAWKSVIEW.  185 

little  trace  of  confusion  on  Mona's  mind  for 
Agnes  to  brighten  away. 

They  next  tried  English  grammar ;  but  that 
was  found  so  utterly  wanting  in  interest,  that  it 
was  abolished  forthwith,  and  the  multiplication 
table  shared  the  same  fate.  Miss  Sage  Booty 
then  began  to  doubt  whether  she  had  the  art  and 
knack  of  teaching ;  and  one  day  Mona  having 
suggested  that  they  should  have  a  story  instead 
of  lessons,  she  narrated  the  veracious  history  of 
"  Puss  in  Boots"  with  such  happy  effects,  that 
she  decided  to  keep  in  the  flowery  paths  of 
romance  henceforward,  and  leave  Agnes  to  cul- 
tivate the  useful  herbs  of  knowledge.  This 
division  of  labor  was  eminently  satisfactory. 
Within  six  months  from  that  date  Mona  could 
have  taken  honors  in  the  nursery  classics ;  and 
was,  in  her  own  person,  a  very  successful  narrator 
of  the  rhymical  versions  of  "  The  Life  and  Death 
of  Cock  Kobin,"  "  The  Babes  in  the  Wood,"  and 
other  pathetic  histories,  charming  at  her  all- 
believing  time  of  life. 

Miss  Sage  Booty  committed  to  memory  hosts 
of  spectral  German  legends,  fairy  tales,  and  sea 
stories  for  the  delectation  of  her  pupil,  and  really 
went  through  as  much  hard  and  conscientious 
study  as  if  she  had  undertaken  a  course  of 
geology,  or  any  other  highly  profitable  branch  of 


186  IIAM'KSVIKW. 

useful  information  ;  and  at  the  same  time  she 
was  cultivating  lier  own  lieart,  and  improving  it 
amazingly,  altiioiigli  in  her  public  capacity  of 
church-warden  and  censor-general  of  the  parish 
morals,  she  was  still  often  a  sore  grievance  to  the 
curate  and  his  wife. 


HAWKSVIEW.  187 


CHAPTER   III. 

Hawksview,  which  had  formed  the  limit  of 
Koger  Bohun's  favorite  walk  with  Agnes,  was 
fixed  upon  for  little  Mona's  first  ride.  She  had 
often  begged  nurse  Beste  to  take  her  there  before  ; 
but  her  legs  had  always  fallen  sliort  half  way, 
and  necessitated  return.  Now,  liowever,  her 
longing  was  in  a  fair  way  to  be  accomplished. 
For  half  a  mile  or  so,  the  novelty  of  her  position 
moderated  the  little  maiden's  enthusiasm  ;  but  by 
and  bye  she  began  to  feel  at  home  on  ponj^-back, 
and  showed  it  by  noticing  the  natural  objects  on 
the  way.  Roger  was  glad  to  observe  this  early 
quickening  in  her  mind  of  tlie  germ  of  that  true 
love  for  nature,  which  is  so  kindly  a  friend  in 
life's  long  inactive  seasons,  and  Agnes,  from 
whom  she  inherited  it,  fostered  it  tenderly. 

When  they  were  about  the  middle  of  Boscombe 
lane,  they  encountered  Miss  Sage  Booty  driving 
in  her  pony  carriage.  Amen  and  Hallelujah 
were  both  very  fresh,  and  pranced  along,  shaking 


188  nA"U'KSviKW, 

their  heads,  and  whisking  their  tails,  and  behav- 
ing in  a  very  light  independent  fashion.  Tliey 
decidedly  ohjccted  to  being  pulled  up  ;  but  Miss 
Sage  Booty  said  she  insisted  upon  it,  and  ordered 
a  little  boy  who  sat  behind,  to  get  out  and  hold 
their  heads.  She  had  recently  mounted  a  new 
driving  costume,  consisting  of  a  tight  jacket,  and 
a  hat  with  a  little  feather  curling  over  the  brim, 
in  which  she  sat  very  stately,  with  a  waspish 
faced  terrier,  named  Candy,  beside  her.  Candy 
felt  it  incumbent  on  him  to  get  down  and  bark 
voeiferonsly,  for  whichdereliction^f  manners  his 
mistress  administered  a  lash  of  the  whip,  telling 
him  that  discipline  must  be  maintained,  and  then 
she  addressed  herself  to  the  curate,  asking  if  he 
had  heard  the  news. 

Koger  had  heard  no  news  in  particular. 
"  "What  had  come  to  pass,"  he  inquired. 

"  The  Yesceys  are  returning  to  Ilawksview. 
Osythe  Dobbie  told  Piper  this  morning.  What 
do  you  think  of  that?"  Roger  did  not  know 
what  to  think.  He  could  not  say  he  was  glad 
to  hear  it,  so  he  said  nothing.  ''Osythe  has 
(jiily  g(jt  her  orders  to  prepare  for  the  Captain 
and  his  wife,  so  I  suppose  they  don't  bring 
the  boy.  lie  was  the  best  of  the  bunch,"  added 
Miss  Sage  Boot}',  sharply,  "  and  I  ho])o  lie  will 
remain  so.     Now,  Mr.  PxtliiMi,  I   won't  listen  to 


HAWKS  VIEW.  189 

any  excuse — I  am  only  going  to  leave  a  bottle 
of  Globb  for  Mary  Spinks  and  the  twins,  and 
then  I  shall  drive  home  again  and  exjject  you 
and  the  little  one  to  luncheon.  Say  you  will 
come — you  might  as  well  stop  at  Moat,  while 
you  are  there,  and  look  round  on  the  people, 
they  want  you  sadly.  They  are  a  benighted 
race,  and  Wha'd-ha-thowt-it  is  as  bad." 

Koger,  for  once,  allowed  himself  to  be  dic- 
tated to ;  and  after  Mona  had  seen  Hawksview 
they  went  to  the  old  Moat  House.  Luncheon 
despatched,  he  left  his  little  girl  to  be  amused  by 
Miss  Sage  Booty,  and  walked  into  the  village. 
Moat  had,  ever  since  his  coming  to  Boscombe, 
been  the  part  of  the  parish  that  had  given  him 
the  most  anxiety  and  the  least  satisfaction.  It 
lay  low  in  a  hollow,  thickly-wooded,  which  seemed 
to  imbibe  and  retain  noisome  fogs  as  its  natural 
atmosphere  for  two-thirds  of  the  year ;  and  in 
the  other  to  evaporate  them  in  malignant  fevers, 
rheumatisms,  and  catarrhs.  The  people  were  of 
more  irregular  habits  than  others,  and  were  con- 
tinually in  ditiiculties,  eitlier  from  wrong-doing, 
improvidence,  misfortune,  or  overplus  of  chil- 
dren ;  and  charity,  which  was  more  freely  dis- 
pensed amongst  them  than  any  other  community 
in  Astondale,  seemed  to  have  the  further  effect  of 
increasing  their  helpless  dependence.    The  curate's 


11)0  IIAWKSVIKW. 

first  visit  was  to  a  middle-aged  bed-ridden  man, 
who  had  lost  the  use  of  his  limbs  while  blasting 
in  a  quarry  some  years  before.  This  man  was  a 
fiivorite  subject  with  ]\[iss  Sage  Booty,  and  her 
]n-ime  minister,  Piper,  Roger  found  him  projiped 
up  in  bed,  listening  to  the  drowsy  humming  of 
the  summer  flies  in  the  window  pane.  The  house 
was  very  bare  and  empty  of  furniture,  and  the  man 
himself,  though  of  an  intelligent  countenance, 
looked  fearfully  emaciated.  What  the  parish 
allowed,  he  said  scarcely  kept  body  and  soul 
together,  for  he  had  so  many  bairns,  all  of  them 
with  a  "  capital  twist."  This  was  no  case  of  "  go 
work  or  starve,"  but  one  of  jjatiently  "lie  still 
and  starve,"  which  the  President  of  the  anti- 
alms-giving  society  himself  might  have  pitied 
and  relieved  without  wounding  his  too  tender 
conscience.  Roger  had  always  felt  a  deep  com- 
misseration  for  this  man,  whom  he  could  not 
effectually  relieve,  and  he  now  sat  down  on  the 
lang  settle  to  have  some  talk  with  him  about  his 
wife  and  children.  They  were  all  at  M'ork  in  the 
hay-fields,  he  said,  and  what  a  blessed  thing  for 
])0'^r  folks  it  was  that  the  harvest  was  promising 
bO  fiiir. 

"  And  is  the  young  missis  nicely  ?"  he  inquired, 
with  frank  civility.  "  3Iy  old  woman  says  she's 
a  sight  for  sair  e'en." 


UAWKSVIEW.  191 

Roger  smiled  at  the  homely  compliment,  and 
replied  that  she  was  quite  well,  and  would  come 
'  ^oon  to  visit  him. 

"  I  ha'  begun  knitting  t'  bairn's  stockings  as 
she  advised,  an'  I  read  when  I  ha'  ought  worth 
reading  ;  but  look  you  here,  sir,"  and  reaching  of 
his  hand  to  a  narrow  shelf  fixed  against  the  wall, 
he  took  down  a  new  copy  of,  "A  call  to  the  un- 
converted, or  a  thunder  clap  from  Zion,"  and  held 
it  out  to  the  curate.  "  We  ha'  getten  a  library 
at  Moat  now,  so  I  sent  t'  lad  for  a  book,  an' 
that's  what  master  gave  'em.  Law,  sir,  I'm 
stalled  o'  thunder  claps!  If  it  was  'Balm  for  a 
wounded  Sinner,'  or  '  Food  for  them  'at  ha'  no 
meat,'  there'd  be  a  kind  o'  comfort  in  it ;  bu*  to 
ha'  ane's  ears  danged  wi'  threats  for  ever,  is  more 
than  I  can  stomach.  I'll  ask  you.  Parson,  will 
you  lend  me  a  book  or  an  auld  newspaper  ance 
i'  a  way  ?" 

"  Certainly,  I  will.  Mills.  I  onlj^  take  a  weekly 
paper  myself;  but  you  shall  have  it  regularly.  As 
for  books,  tell  me  what  you  like,  and  I'll  do  my 
best  for  you  in  that  line  too." 

"  I'm  like  t'  bairns  sir,  a  story  book  or  a  song 
book  for  me,  an'  travelers'  tales  that  may  be  is 
true  an'  may  be  isn't.  Something  that  will  make 
a  man  forget  his  miseries.  This  thunder  clapping 
only  gars  'em  stang  worse,  I  think. 


192  llAWKisVIEW. 

"  I  will  remember  your  wants.  Mills  ;  but  tell 
me  who  has  organised  this  library  at  Moat?  I 
have  not  heard  a  word  of  it  before  ?"  ' 

"  Miss  Sage  Booty  is  at  the  head  of  it,  her  and 
Mrs.  Piper.  If  you  could  'siniate  what  to  buy, 
it  'ud  be  a  good  thing;  for  these  ladies  is  so  con- 
ceited o'  themselves,  they  think  poor  folks  is  to 
be  talked  to  an'  petted  like  bairns." 

"  I  will  g<)  in  and  look  at  what  they  have  col- 
lected on  my  way  home.  I  believe  they  wish  to 
benefit  you." 

"  Yes,  parson,  I  ha'  no  doubts  o'  that,  it's  t'  way 
of  it,  it's  all  wrang,"  replied  Mills,  in  a  tone  of 
sarcasm  ;  "  do  folks  such  as  you  be  always  at 
mire  for  babes  o'  grace,  and  such -like  spoou 
meat  ?  Law,  parson,  I  ha'  getten  my  auld 
mother's  Bible  here,  and  I  can  read  it  if  I've  a 
mind  too,  for  it's  all  as  plain  as  a  pike  staff  there. 
These  little  bits  o'  books  wi'  their  warnings,  an' 
awakenings,  an'  thunder  clappings,  is  enough  to 
daze  a  jiian  like  me,  instead  o'  helping  him  for- 
Avard.  I  ha'  been  at  t'  first  step  ever  so  lang« 
First,  Miss  Sage  Booty,  she  brings  me  'The 
Alphabet  o'  the  only  true  Wisdom,'  an'  as  soon 
as  I  ha'  gotten  that  of,  comes  Mrs.  Piper  wi' 
'  Leading-strings  for  tottering  babes.'  I  get  out 
o'  them  into  !Miss  Sage  Booty's  '  Go-cart  for 
falterers  in  Faith,'  an'  then  I  tell  'em  Pd  like  to 


•  HAWKS  VIEW.  193 

go  forward  if  they  pleased  ;  an'  parson,  wliat  do 
you  think  they  says  then  ?  They  says,  '  Mills, 
,  you're  a  poor  benighted  sinner,  and  must  let  them 
as  ha'  more  light  see  for  yon.'  I  fairly  wished 
em'  out  o'  t'  house,  I  did.  Then  I  sent  to  t'  school 
for  something  more  lightsome,  and  there  comes 
this  thunder  clap !" 

"  Isot  the  most  relishing  diet  in  the  world  to 
judge  from  the  look  of  it,"  said  the  Curate, 
furling  over  a  few  of  the  leaves,  and  culling  here 
and  there  a  sentence.  "  It  would  try  a  sti'onger 
digestion  than  yours  Mills,  I  am  afraid." 

"Eh !  parson,  it  sours  on  one's  stomach,  and  does 
more  harm  than  good,  as  I  telt  them  ladies  .this 
morning,  an'  Mrs.  Piper  she  left  me  a  little  trac' 
— there  it  is  on  t'  dresser.  But  I'm  set  again' 
reading  it,  it's  gotten  such  a  name:  'The  Burn- 
ing Brand.'  Now,  if  it  was  possible  for  anything 
ladies  says  to  poor  folk  to  be  impertinent,  I  suld 
call  them  two  right-down  impei-tinent  wi'  their 
tongues.  I  never  like  calling  bad  names,  an'  thev 
*as  good  as  telt  me  that  /was  t'  Brand  i'  t'  trac'. 
My  auld  woman  would  use  their  bits  o'  books  for 
kindling  if  she  daur ;  but  it  won't  do,  I  tell  her, 
to  alFront  Miss  Sage  Booty." 

While  Roger  listened  to  Mills  with  that  inter- 
ested patience  that  the  poor  know  so  well  how  to 
appreciate,  a  woman  put  her  head  in  at  t]ie  door 
0 


ll»Jr  HAWK8VIKW.  W 

jind  asked,  '•  I  heard  t'  parson  M'as  here,  Mills  ;  is 
he  long  gone  ?   My  old  man  wants  to  see  him  a  bit." 

Eoger  immediately  rose  up  and  said,  "  What 
is  it,  Mrs.  Frouston  ;  is  he  particular  to  see  me 
to-day  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  he's  getten  something  on  his  mind, 
he  says,  that  he  must  tell  you.  My  old  man's 
always  getten  something  on  his  mind,"  replied 
the  woman,  philosophicall}-.  Roger  said  he 
would  follow  her  in  a  few  minute?,  and  then  she 
went  away. 

"Jerry  has  been  taking  his  drink  o'  Miss  Sage 
Booty's  grand  stufl',  and  it's  getten  into  his  head," 
observed  Mills,  sbrewdly. 

"Not  impossible,  I  fear.  Send  one  of  3'our 
boys  to  the  rectory,  to-night,  and  I  will  return 
you  a  newspaper  and  a  rabbit  for  to-morrow's 
dinner.  And  now,  good-day  to  you,"  said  Roger, 
kindly.  "And  I'll  lookout  a  book  too,  such  as 
may  suit  you." 

"Thank  you,  Sir.  I  won't  say  but  that  t' 
rabbit  '11  be  very  acceptable,  book  or  none,"  re- 
plied Mills,  with  a  hollow,  hungry  smile.  And 
then  the  curate  departed,  leaving  behind  him 
one  heart  robbed  of  its  bitterness;  and  all  the 
more  resigned  in  its  suffering,  for  the  kindness 
which  cost  the  giver  nothing  yet  made  the  re- 
ceiver rich. 


♦  IIAAVKSVIEW.  105 

Mrs.  Froiiston  was  standing  outside  her  door 
to  conduct  Roger  to  her  old  man's  presence.  "  He 
"was  getting  very  tedious  with  his  flights  and  his 
fancies  again,"  she  said.  "Perhaps  the  parson 
M'ould  give  him  a  good  talking  to,  to  set  him 
right  in  his  wits." 

"Well,  Jeny,  your  wife  says  you  have  some- 
thing to  tell  me.  "What  is  it !"  Roger  asked,  ap- 
proaching the  fire  over  whicii  crouched  a  de- 
crepit remnant  of  superannuated  mortality. 

At  the  sound  of  a  strange  voice  Jerry  lifted  up 
his  head  and  cried  in  a  passion:  "What  she's 
been  at  her  lees  again,  t'  auld  wife?  I  want 
noan  o'  t'  parson  !  Get  awa'  wi'  ye  both ;  and  he 
followed  up  his  commands  by  muttering  a  series 
of  oaths,  and  brandishing  a  feeble  arm  as  if  he 
would  strike.  Jerry  Frouston  had  been  imbecile 
for  many  years ;  but  not  imbecile  enough  to 
forget  the  flowery  eloquence  of  the  days  when  he 
had  been  a  horse  jockey.  His  wife  bade  him  be 
civil. 

"  When  he  gets  into  his  tantrums,  sir,  a  clout 
on  t'  head  wad  do  him  good,"  remarked  she, 
apologetically,  to  Roger.  "He's  always  i'  this 
way  when  he's  supped  much  o'  Miss  Sage  Booty's 
physic,  and  he's  emptied  a  whole  bottle  sin' 
morning:." 

"Then  you   have  nothing   to  tell   me,  Jerry; 


19G  .  IIAWKSVILW.  • 

your  miiul  is  quite  comfortable?"  said  Roger, 
quietl}'. 

"  Xought  as  I  know  on,  'less  it  be  tliat  t'  auld 
Queen  Anne's  dead ;  an'  it's  no  a  hanging  matter 
that  I'm  aware  on,  Parson." 

"Scarcely,  Jerry.  Then  I'll  bid  you  good 
afternoon.  And  Roger  went  his  way,  pursued  by 
a  volley  of  anything  but  blessings. 

His  next  visit  was  to  a  tumble-down  cottage 
where  lived  Branker,  formerly  a  carrier  at 
Boothc;  but  who  had  lost  his  character  and 
business  by  a  series  of  petty  thefts,  for  which  he 
had  undergone  a  term  of  imj^ris^nment.  lie  had 
a  sickly  wife,  whom  he  treated  ill,  and  several 
starved-looking  children,  wliom  Agnes  helped  to 
clothe  by  her  own  little  ones'  cast  off  garments. 
The  mother  was  well  meaning  and  religious;  but 
so  ailing  and  helpless,  that  amongst  the  many 
miserable  families  at  Moat,  her's  was  ever  tlie 
most  destitute.  Miss  Sage  Booty  would  not 
assist  them  because  of  the  father's  bad  character, 
and  Roger  could  do  but  little  among  so  many. 
The  mother  received  him  with  the  usual  torrent 
of  cojnplaints  against  lier  husband ;  but  grew 
quieter  under  his  gentle  counsel  and  reasoning. 
And  when  lie  gave  her  a  half-a-crown,  she  was 
only  eager  for  him  to  be  gftne,  that  she  might 
*crawl    out  and   biiv   brea<l    hikI  an  ounce  of  tea 


HAWKSVIEW.  ,  197 

before  Braiikcr  came  home  and  took  it  from  her 
to  spend  at  the  ale-honse. 

Tills  was  Roger's  last  visit  for  tliat  day.  He 
returned  to  the  old  Moat  House  for  Mona,  and 
they  rode  home.  Agnes's  face  was  always  a 
I'efreshinent  after  a  round  at  Moat ;  but  she  met 
him  at.  the  door  more  beaming  even  than  usual, 
and  bade  him  guess  who  had  come  upon  her 
unannounced  that  afternoon.  Entering  tlie 
drawing  room  in  haste,  he  found  Eli  Burton  in 
possession  of  his  easy  chair ;  and  tlie  way  in 
which  they  greeted  each  other  showed  that  the 
friend  of  school  and  college  was  still  the  dearest 
friend  of  the  family-man. 

Agnes  Bohun  was  always  delighted  to  have 
Eli  Burton  at  the  rectory,  his  society  was  such  an 
enjoyment  to  Roger,  whose  increasing  family 
and  narrow  means  kept  him  always  at  home. 
She  M'Ould  have  liked  him  to  have  his  holiday 
yearly ;  but  the  necessity  of  strict  economy  had 
presented  itself  in  the  curate's  house  as  a  guest 
that  never  went  away,  and  warned  them  both 
from  any  indulgence  that  could  not  be  dispenseii 
with,  Happy  as  she  was,  the  gentle  3^oung  wife 
often  knew  the  want  of  what  only  nioney 
procures ;  and  though  never  for  a  moment  did 
she  regret  it  for  Iterself,  she  regretted  it  often  for 
her  husband  and  her  children.  * 


lOS  •  IIAWKSVIEW. 

After  dinner  tlic  whole  family,  except  LoniB, 
who  was  cozily  snoozing  in  his  cot,  gatliered 
rgund  the  early  lighted  drawing-room  fire.  Mona, 
with  the  affectionate  familiarity  of  long  liking, 
climbed  upon  Eli  Burton's  knee ;  Tristan  got 
possession  of  a  stool  by  the  fender  corner  near 
his  mother;  and  Harry,  the  audacious,  .entered 
upon  the  occupancy  of  the  centre  of  the  hearth- 
rug'with  his  Noah's  ark.  Conversation  and 
mutual  gossip  flowed  apace.  Eli  told  of  recent 
pedestrianizing  in  Airedale  and  Warfedale,  and 
of  his  last  year's  coracle  fishing  expedition  into 
North  "Wales,  while  Agnes  breathed  an  envious 
sigh  for  her  own  dear  Roger,  whose  excursions 
never  extended  beyond  the  bounds  of  his  parish. 
Suddenly  the  curate  recollected  the  news  he  had 
heard  from  Miss  Sage  Booty  that  morning,  and 
lie  stopped  in  the  midst  of  another  subject,  to 
communicate  it  to  his  wife.  "  The  Vesceys  are 
coming  back  to  Ilawksview,  Agnes,"  said  he ; 
"  such  is  the  report,  at  least." 

"Coming  back  to  Ilawksview!"  echoed  she, 
in  very  considerable  astonishment,  "  It  is 
not  the  shooting  seasim — what  brings  them,  I 
wonder?" 

"I  think  I  can  tell  you,"  Eli  Burton  interposed, 
"They  have  just  lost  their  hnv'suit  about  Otter- 
b<l\irne.     I  sujipose  you  have  heard  of  it." 


HAWKSVIEW.  1 99 

"  Not  a  word  ;  we  hear  nothing  here,"  Agnes 
said,  with  a  little  haste ;  and  then  she  added,  as 
if  fearing  lest  her  words  should  seem  to  imply 
discontent  with  their  secluded  position  :  "  Nothing 
of  our  neighbors'  quarrels  and  disputes  that  is." 

"  Then  I  will  tell  you  what  I  know.  You 
will  recollect  that  it  was  under  an  old  will  that 
Mi"S.  Yescey  got  tlie  property  ;  and  that  there 
was  some  disagreement  between  the  Captain  and 
her  brother  at  the  time  as  to  its  validity.  Some 
months  since,  a  will  of  much  more  recent  date 
was  found,  which  revoked  all  the  provisions  of 
the  former  one  in  favor  of  the  brother.  He  in- 
stantly claimed  Otterbourne,  but  Captain  Yescey 
would  not  yield  his  prize  without  a  struggle;  and 
trusting  in  the  old  adage  that  '  possession  is  nine 
tenths  of  the  law,'  he  determined  to  fight  every 
inch  of  the  ground.  He  declared  the  new  will 
to  be  an  impudent  forgery ;  but  when  the  cause 
came  on  for  trial,  it  was  pronounced  valid.  The 
ujishot  was  that  the  Yesceys  lost  the  estate,  and 
gained  an  enemy  by  their  pertinacious  resistance 
of  the  rightful  owner's  claims.  Mr.  Loftus,  the 
successful  party  in  the  cause,  demands  back  rents 
for  six  years,  which  he  states  he  should  not  have 
done  had  his  brotlier-in-law  yielded  to  tlie  evident 
justice  of  his  claiin,  and  not  set  up  against  it  the 
ridicvdous  plea  of  forgery."  • 


200  IIAWKSVIEW. 

"  Then  all  poor  Birdyfnte's  inlieritance  is 
Ilawksview,  witli  the  few  acres  of  moor  and 
wood,"  said  Agnes,  rather  sorrowfully.  "  What 
a  pity  that  lie  should  have  been  brought  up  wiili 
liigh  expectations  to  be  disai^pointed  at  an  age 
when  he  will  feel  it  keenly." 

"  I  don't  fear  that  much,"  rejoined  Eli.  "  I 
should  imagine  that  he  has  learnt  to  rough  it." 

"*Poor  little  Birdyfute !"  Agnes  murmured, 
reflectively ;  and  in  her  memory  she  saw  tlie 
small  black  figure  of  the  boy  toiling  through  the 
snowy  winter  twilight  of  a  day  more  than  seven 
years  agu — that  memorable  day  when  he  ran 
away  from  school  to  see  his  mother. 

Tristan  at  her  knee,  with  his  grand  Arabian 
story  book,  looked  up  when  she  repeated  her 
pitying  words,  and  wondered  a  little  why  ma- 
ma's eyes  looked  so  very  bright,  and  why  her 
slender  white  fingers  alterward  rested  so  long  and 
gently  on  his  head.  She  was  thinking  prayerfull}', 
perhaps,  that  she  trusted  in  God  to  save  her  boys 
from  serving  their  ajiprenticeship  to  life  tlirough 
the  ''  roughing  it"  process,  which  had  been  the 
experience  of  Birdyfute,  her  little  friend  of  early 
Boscombe  days. 


HAWKSVIEW.  201 


CHAPTEK  lY. 

It  was  only  three  days  after  Koger  Boliun 
brought  home  the  news,  wliich  set  all  Astondale 
gossiping,  that  Captain  Yescey  and  his  wife 
arrived  at  Ilawksvicw.  There  was  no  Birdyfute. 
with  them,  neither  did  they  bring  any  servant. 
They  had  traveled  to  Boothe  by  the  stage  coach, 
and  thence  had  driven  to  the  cottage  in  a  chaise 
cart ;  they  reached  their  destination  unobserved 
after  dusk,  and  found  Osythe  Dobbie,  according 
to  lier  orders,  ready  and  expecting  them.  Clara 
immediately  retired  to  her  room,  and  the  Captain 
ordered  lights  and  supper  into  the  parlor,  where 
lie  remained  alone;- his  wife  re-appearing  no 
more  that  night.  The  Captain  was,  according  to 
Osytlie's  rej)ort,  as  savage  as  a  bear,  and  would 
not  suffer  himself  to  be  spoken  to  ;  and  as  for  his 
poor  lady,  she  was  as  wan  and  Aveary  as  a  ghost, 
with  a  face  that  looked  as  if  the  misery  would 
never  go  out  of  it  any  more.  The  neighborhood 
liad  not- for  some  time  any  opportunity  of  verily- 
9^ 


2<>2  IIAWKSVIKW. 

ing  this  account,  for  iioLuilv  cli>>su  to  be  tlie  iir^t 
to  call,  and  neither  Captain  Vesce}'  nor  Clara 
ajipeared  ahroad.  There  was  not  a  single  horee 
in  the  llawksview  stable,  and  Osythe  denoimced 
the  housekeeping  as  "  meaner  tlian  niean,quite  be- 
neath gentlefolks,  however  poor.  ''CaptainVescey 
■was  undeniably  very  poor,  being,  in  fact,  worth 
some  sixty  thousand  pounds  less  than  nothing.  Ilis 
paying  the  back  rents,  claimed  by  his  brother-in- 
law,  Loftus,  was  utterly  out  of  the  question  ;  and 
he  had  written  to  him  saying,  that  it  was  a  case  as 
hopeless  as  trying  to  squeeze  wine  out  of  a  flint, 
to  try  to  get  money  from  a  man  who  had  none; 
Mr.  Loftus  was  irritated,  and  not  unnaturally,  at 
the  btujc  charge  that  Captain  Vescey  had  invent- 
ed to  upset  his  rights,  and  though  not  intend- 
ing, for  his  sister's  sake,  to  proceed  to  extremities 
against  him,  he  would  not  yet  relinquish  the 
power  that  he  held  in  terrorum  over  him.  lie 
did  not  reply  to  his  letter;  and  in  this  uncertain 
]>osition  of  their  aifairs,  it  was  that  the  Vesceys 
returjied  to  Ilawksview. 

Captain  Veseey  was  now  more  straitened  and 
encumbered  in  his  circumstances  than  lie  had 
ever  been  before,  insomuch  as  he  had  a  wife  and 
a  son  to  maintain.  But  it  did  not  enter  into  any 
one  of  the  jdans  that  floated  through  his  mind  to 
i\llow  himself  to  be  long  hampered  by  tkese  en- 


HAWKSVIEW.  203 

tanglemcnts.  He  intended  to  change  his  name 
and  go  abroad,  where  it  would  be  hard,  if,  with 
his  imposing  person,  his  skill  at  fence,  and  his 
tricks  at  play,  he  could  not  maintain  himself  in 
tolerable  luxury. 

To  obtain  the  means  for  this  new  start,  he  had 
an  idea  of  selling  Hawksview  to  Squirrj  Brough, 
in  the  midst  of  whose  property  it  lay  ;  tlien  his 
wife  might  go  back  to  her  brother,  and  his  son 
might  learn  to  shift  for  himself.  But  while  the 
peach  of  his  intentions  was  slowly  ripening, 
behold,  tlie  hand  of  fate  was  gliding  stealthily 
over  the  wall  to  pluck  it  from  his  possession. 

Tiiey  had  been  above  three  weeks  at  Hawks- 
view,  and  not  one  old  neighbor  had  been  near 
them,  except  Roger  Bohun  and  Agnes,  whom 
Osythe  had  strict  orders  to  exclude.  The  Cap- 
tain found  it  intolerably  dreary,  and  Clara  did 
not  add  to  its  cheerfulness.  She  was  always 
ailing  and  complaining — indeed,  it  seemed  as  if  k 
long  course  of  neglect  and  ill-treatment  had 
weakened  her  mind.  Her  brilliant  beauty  was 
faded,  her  golden  hair  dimmed,  her  graceful 
figure  worn  and  bent.  Her  husband  was  in 
the  habit  of  taunting  her,  by  saying  she  was 
about  as  lively  a  companion  as  a  Death's-head, 
and  she  would  answer  him  with  a  low  unmeaning 
laugh ;  but   one  evening  this   slight  manner  of 


204  HA^VKSVIEW. 

indifference  or  defiance  left  lier,  and  she  tried  to 
look  gay  and  pleasant  with  the  slavish  craft  of 
fear  and  weakness  that  lias  an  end  to  gain. 
Captain  Yescey  saw  tlirungh  the  device  easily 
enough ;  but  as  it  was  now  one  of  his  keenest 
enjoyments  to  subject  his  victim  to  a  species  of 
slow  torture,  he  let  her  fancy  for  a  time  that  she 
was  beguiling  him  into  a  consenting  mood. 

"  Marmaduke,  I  believe  1  am  very  ill.  I 
should  like  to  see  my  boy  ;  I  have  not  seen  him 
fur  three  years,"  said  the  poor  lady  restles-sly, 
locking  and  unlocking  her  fingers.  "  Three  years 
is  a  very  long  time." 

"  You  look  no  worse  than  you  always  do.  It 
is  nonsense  to  bring  the  lad  away  from  his  studies 
for  a  whim,"  replied  her  husband. 

'•  It  is  not  a  whim,  Marmaduke,  If  you  do  not 
let  him  come  to  me  soon,  I  shall  never  see  him 
ai^ain.  I  shall  not  know  mv  darlinj^'s  face  when 
■we  meet  in  Heaven  !  You  look  kind  ;  you  will 
grant  me  this  last  request,  and  I  will  bless  you  !" 

"  Pshaw,  I  ho])ed  you  were  as  sick  of  heroics  as 
lam?  The  lad  does  not  care  for  you — he  has 
not  asked  to  be  with  you  for  a  hjng  while  now. 
He  is  ha])pier  away.  In  fact,  you  weary  and 
disgust  him  as  much  as  3'ou  do  me,  and  no 
wonder  !" 

Clara's  white  li]»s  fjuivercd    with  pain,  whicli 


IIAWKSVIEW.  205 

she  tried  to  cliange  into  a  smile.  lie  eould  stab 
her  cruelly  yet.  "But  let  him  come;  let  me 
write  to  him  myself,"  pleaded  she.  "If  I  am 
sometimes  tiresome,  he  would  not  like  his  mother 
to  die  without  blessing  him." 

Captain  Yescey  puffed  lazily  at  his  cigar,  and 
lifted  his  eyebrows  contemptuously.  "  There  is 
no  question  of  dying  at  present.  A  creaking 
gate  hangs  long,'  said  he,  bitterly,  "  I  wish  I 
could  see  a  prospect  of  such  a  blessed  release." 

His  wife  had  drawn  a  little  nearer  to  him, 
impelled  by  God  knows  what  delusive  and  tena- 
cious hope,  but  now  her  countenance  fell  again. 
"  I  have  tried  to  kill  myself,  Marmaduke  ;  you 
know  I  have  ;  but  I  dare  not,"  muttered  she,  "  I 
dare  not  go  into  God's  presence  till  he  calls  me  ; 
but  when  I  stand  there,  I  will  bear  witness 
against  you  that  you  are  as  much  my  murderer 
as  if  you  had  drawn  a  knife  across  my  throat  or 
sti-angled  me  in  my  sleep.  I  will,  Marmaduke, 
I  will." 

"  Curse  you  !  get  out  of  my  sight ;  the  sooner 
you  go  and  bear  witness  the  better.  Write  to 
the  lad  at  your  peril.  You  shall  not  see  him  for 
another  year  for  this,"  cried  he,  wrathfully,  and 
he  took  her  arm  to  thrust  her  from  the  room. 
She  tried  to  wrench  herself  free,  and  it  was 
pitiable  to  see  the  struggles  of  her  weakness  in 


20G  HA'W'KSVIEW. 

liis  relentless  grasp;  but  she  was  finally  put  into 
the  liall,  and  the  door  shut  upon  her.  For  a  few 
minutes  she  stood  panting  and  trembling  on  the 
mat  halt"  disposed  to  brave  her  tyrant  again  ;  but 
Osythe,  who  had  been  listening  to  the  scuflle, 
came  and  enticed  her  away  to  her  chamber. 

'*  What's  the  good  o'  striving  wi'  a  man  that's 
possessed  by  a  legion  o'  devils  ?"  remonstrated  the 
old  woman.  "  You'll  provoke  him  to  kilL  you 
one  of  these  days." 

"I  wish  he  would,  I  wish  he  would!"  cried 
Clara,  passionately  ;  he  would  put  me  out  of 
my  torment  then  !  She  raved  aboUt  the  room 
like  a  crazy  creature — indeed,  it  is  probable  that 
she  had  intervals  of  frenzy,  which  passed  and  left 
her  dull  and  half  imbecile  for  days  together. 
Osytlie  Dobbie  in  her  own  miml  held  her  as 
"daft,"  and  watched  %er  cautiously  during  these 
periods,  lest,  as  she  phrased  il,  she  might  be 
tempted  to  put  an  end  to  herself.  This  evening 
she  was  more  violent  and  uncontrolled  than  usual, 
and  the  succeeding  reaction  was  proportionate 
depression.  When  worn  to  exhaustion,  she  sank 
in  a  heap  on  the  floor,  moaning  and  ciying  out' 
sharply,  as  if  tortured  by  some  physical  pain. 
After  a  little  while,  she  let  Osythe  undress 
lier  and  lay  her  on  the  bed ;  but  that  cry 
still  went  on,  until  the  old  woman  was  alarmed. 


HAWKSVIEW.  207 

and  thonglit  of  se<.'king  the  Captain,  and  asking 
if  he  would  fetch  Dr.  Drake. 

"  What  ails  you,  tell  me  where  the  pain  is  ?" 
said  slie,  kindly.  There  was  no  answer,  only  the 
low,  unmeaning  moan.  Captain  Yescey  had  also 
heard  it,  for  he  mounted  the  stairs  and  opened 
the  chaniher  door  to  look  in,  taking  his  cigar 
from  his  lips  as  he  did  so. 

"  Is  anything  the  matter  more  than  usual  ?" 
inquired  he,  approaching  the  bed  carelessly. 

"  Nay,  I  don't  know  ;  look  at  iier  !"  and  Osythe 
held  the  candle  so  as  to  throw  its  light  on  Clara's 
face.  Her  Syes  were  closed,  and  she  was  evi- 
dently unconscious ;  her  lips  were  apart  and 
stained  with  blood,  and  her  breath  came  in  short 
rattling  gasps.     "  I  had  better  fetch  Dr.  Drake." 

"  No  stay,  I'll  go  myself.  I  would  not  remain 
with  her  in  that  state  for  a  Idngdom  ;  the  scandal- 
mongers would  say  I  killed  her,"  was  his  hasty 
reply. 

"  An'  so  you  have,"  muttered  Osythe,  as  he 
went  out  of  the  room  ;  "  and  your  black  heart  '11 
tell  you  so  enow."  The  old  woman  busied  her- 
self in  making  the  chamber  neat,  and  then, 
shading  the  candle,  sat  down  by  the  bedside  to 
watch  the  patient,  and  to  await  the  return  of  her 
master  with  Dr.  Drake. 

It  was  a  clear  moonlight  night  when  Captain 


208  HAWKSYIEW. 

Yescej  set  forth  down  the  hill  toward  Boscombe. 
lie  walked  at  a  smart  pace,  lookino;  neither  to  the 
right  hand  nor  the  left ;  but  if  there  had  been 
any  s\)y  to  watch  his  face,  he  would  have  seen 
that  he  was  not  altogether  cahn.  Ills  compressed 
lips  were  livid,  his  eye  was  more  sinister  in  ex- 
pression even  than  usual,  and  there  was  a  twitch- 
ing about  the  muscles  of  his  mouth  which  showed 
a  mind  ill  at  ease.  lie  kept  out  of  the  deep 
shadow,  cast  by  the  elevated  bank,  and  more 
than  once  he  stopped  with  a  start,  and  peering 
forward  as  if  he  discerned  some  suspicious  shape 
in  advance.  Dr.  Drake  had  just  ridden  up  to 
his  own  door  from  one  direction  as  the  Captain 
approached  it  from  another,  and  as  soon  as  he 
understood  the  urgency  of  the  case  he  turned 
his  horse  and  galloped  away  toward  Hawks  view, 
leaving  Captain  Ye^y  to  follow.  In  returning 
past  the  rectory,  Cajitain  Vcscey  noticed  the 
brio'ht  liirht  in  tlio  drawingr-room  wliich  shone 
from  the  window  across  the  lawn  ;  and  after  a 
moment's  hesitation  he  entered  the  garden  and 
rang  at  the  Ijcll,  saying  to  himself,  "Clara  believed 
in  priests  and  prayers.  I  suppose,  if  she  is  really 
going  to  die,  she  would  like  to  see  Bohun."  lie 
Bent  in  his  message  and  waited  in  the  porch 
while  it  was  delivered.  Both  Agnes  and  Iloffer  , 
came    out    to    him  abr.'.st    immediately.     Agnes 


IIAWKSVIEW.  209 

was  desirous  of  going  with  lier  husband  in  case 
she  might  be  useful  to  the  sick  lady  ;  but  Captain 
Vescej  coldly  declined  her  offer. 

"  1  hope  poor  Birdjfute  is  come  ?"  said  she. 

"Tliere  has  been  no  time  to  send  for  him. 
Clara  was  taken  ill  scarcely  an  hour  ago,"  was 
the  negligent  reply. 

Hoger  was  now  ready  ;  and  after  whispering  a 
few  words  to  Agnes,  he  left  the  house  with  his 
com]3anion.  Their  walk  was  rapid  and  silent, 
for  when  the  curate  attempted  to  speak,  Captain 
Vescey  answered  only  in  surly  monosyllables. 
There  was  a  light  shining  from  Clara's  window  ; 
but  as  they  drew  near  to  the  house  it  receded, 
and  on  oj)ening  the  door  they  saw  Osythe  lean- 
ing over  the  banisters  to  show  Dr.  Drake  down 
stairs.  The  country  surgeon  was  not  a  courtl}^ 
person,  and  he  had  just  seeri'that  which  made  him 
more  savage  than  ordinary.  "  I  can  do  nothing 
for  your  wife.  Captain  Yescey,  she  is  past  human 
aid,"  said  he  abruptly. 

"  She  is  not  dead,  is  she  ?  I  hear  her  moan- 
ing," replied  the  Captain,  listening  toward  the 
room  in  which  Clara  lay. 

"  Not  dead  ;  but  dying.  A  few  hours  will  end 
it  all." 

"  What  ails  her  ?  She  had  no  mortal  disease 
that  I  knew  of." 


210  llAWKSVIKW. 

"  Dont  ask  me  what  ails  lier.  You  should 
know  best,  Captain  Vescoy,'''  replied  the  surgeon, 
with  marked  signiticance.  Then  turning  to  Eoger, 
he  whispered,  ''  that  what  he  came  to  do  he  had 
better  do  quickly." 

''  I  should  desire  you  to  remain,  Dr.  Drake,  to 
watch  for  any  favorable  change  that  may  take 
place,"  said  Captain  Yescey,  loftily.  "  I  do  not 
see  why  my  wife's  sudden  illness  should  all  at 
once  assume  a  serious  aspect.  Please  to  follow 
me  to  her  room." 

The  surgeon  made  no  remonstrance  but  re- 
mounted the  stairs  quietly,  the  curate  after  him. 
Except  that  the  pitialde  moaning  was  gentler 
than  before,  Clara  appeared  as  she  had  done 
when  her  husband  left  hur ;  death  was  in  her 
countenance  unmistakabl}' ;  the  spring  of  life  was 
running  down  very  fast.  Koger,  however,  saw  a 
gleam  of  consciousness  come  into  her  face  as 
he  began  his  prayers  ;  it  faded  again  as  fast, 
th'^ugh  perhaps  the  words  of  comfort  penetrated 
lier  failing  sense,  for  her  moaning  ceased.  Sud- 
denly she  opened  her  eyes,  and  fixing  them  on 
some  object  that  she  fancied  she  saw  standino' 
beside  her,  said,  "  Birdyfute,  bend  down  your  face 
and  kiss  me.  I  alwavs  loved  you,  darlin" — 
you  will  forgive  your  father."  -Her  lijjs  con- 
tinued to  move  fur   several    minutes    inaudibly, 


HAWKSVIEW.  211 

and  then  ceased.  Roger  Boliun  resumed  his 
pr<iyei"S  ;  and  while  he  was  uttering  the  closing 
words,  Clara  Yescey's  soul  departed.  Dr.  Drake 
who  had  been  leaning  over  the  foot  of  the  bed 
with  his  watch  in  his  hand,  restored  it  to  his 
pocket,  and  with  a  gesture  of  his  head  to  Osythe, 
intimating  that  all  was  over,  he  walked  away  to- 
ward the  door.  Captain  Yescey  and  the  curate 
folio  wins:  in  silence. 


t 


212  IIAWKSVIEW, 


CHAPTER  Y. 

The  intelligence  of  Mrs.  Yescey's  sudden  death 
flew  from  lip  to  lip  like  wildfire,  accompanied  bj 
many  a  suspicions  whisper  and  shocked  com- 
ment. Dr.  Drake  even  went  so  far  as  to  say, 
tliat  there  was  evidence  enough  of  ill-treatment 
to  Pui)]iort  a  charge  of  manslaugliter ;  and  the 
woman  who  laid  out  the  corpse  talked  long  and 
loudly  of  the  cruel  bruises  tliat  darkened  the 
tender  flesli.  The  universal  verdict  of  Aston  dale 
M'as,  that  ill  all  England  tliere  lived  not  a  greater 
viUain  unhanged  tlian  Captain  Yescey.  lie  did 
not  l)ear  his  loss  so  philosophically  as  nnght  have 
been  anticipated.  During  the  first  two  days  after 
Clara's  death  he  would  have  given  much  to  hear 
her  feeble  uncertain  step,  faltering  down  the 
stairs  at  his  iinju'rious  summons,  as  was  its  wont; 
lie  missed  his  victim,  and  though  not  repenting 
of  his  f(U-mer  harshness,  he  would  much  rather 
that  it  had  not  become  so  notoiions.  Yory  ro- 
luctantlv   had  he  wi-ittcn  to  ^Ir.  Loi'tus,  (h's-iriiii' 


#  HAWKS  VIEW.  213 

his  presence  at  the  funeral,  and  still  more  re- 
luctantly had  he  summoned  his  son  ;  but  common 
decency  demanded  the  appearance  of  young 
Marmaduke,  and  the  Captain  hoped  to  make 
good  terms  for  himself  with  his  brotlier-in-law, 
during  the  softened  feeling  which  a  meeting  at 
such  a  time  might  be  expected  to  produce  ;  but 
in  this  last  hope  he  reckoned  on  the  weakness  of 
human  nature,  and  was  disappointed.  Mr. 
Loftus  had  arrived,  bringing  with  him  old  Janet 
Saunders,  who  speedily  carried  Osythe's  reports 
to  her  master,  and  thus  changed  his  wavering 
resentment  into  settled  rancor.  He  felt  that 
Captain  Yescey  was  no  better  than  a  murderer ; 
and  though  he  did  not  say  so  in  j)lain  terms,  he 
let  him  see  that  with  his  wife's  life  had  ended 
every  claim  he  could  lay  to  her  brother's  for- 
bearance. After  their  first  awkward  meeting 
they  had  voluntarily  kept  apart,  each  in  his 
seclusion,  steadily  revolving  his  own  plan  of 
action  as  soon  as  the  event  which  had  brought 
tliem  together  should  be  over. 

The  evening  of  the  day  before  that  fixed  for 
the  funeral  was  come,  and  Captain  Yescey  in 
restless  discomfort  aAvaited  the  arrival  of  his  son. 
The  lad  and  he  had  not  met  for  a  long  time,  and 
to  meet  under  tjie  present  circumstances  was  very 
awkward.     Birdyfute  was  a  boy  no  longer  to  be 


214  IIAWKSVIKW.  * 

tyrannized  over  and  beaten  for  rebellion  ;  he  was 
a  man  almost — eighteen  on  the  very  day  his 
mother  died.  The  hour  when  he  was  expected  to 
appear  passed,  and  Captain  Yescey  had  just 
resigned  liimself  to  his  cigar  with  a  sense  of 
relief,  in  the  idea  that  his  son  would  not  come 
till  the  morrow,  when  a  quick  impatient  knock 
re-echoed  through  the  silent  house.  He  started 
up  from  his  chair  with  a  bitter  oath ;  then  hur- 
riedly composing  his  countenance,  passed  into  the 
hall  to  receive  his  son.  They  shook  hands  in 
silence,  then  went  into  the  pallor  together  and 
shut  the  door.  For  a  second  or  two  they  con- 
fronted each  other  with  a  steadfast  gaze,  half 
searching,  half  defiant ;  then  Captain  Yescey 
turned  away  and  dropped  into  his  chair. 

"  It  is  a  pity  you  were  not  here  earlier,  Mar- 
madnke ;  but  your  mother's  illness  was  so  rapid 
that  it  gave  us  no  time  for  anything,"  said  he, 
and  then  relit  his  cigar  with  ostentatious  calmness. 

"  Did  she  ask  for  me  !"  inquired  Birdfyfute. 
"  I  am  sure  she  must  have  wished  for  me." 

"The  strangest  thing  of  all  was,  that,  when 
she  lay,  dying,  she  fancied  you  were  present  and 
spoke  to  you  ;  she  kept  the  delusion  to  the  last." 

"O!  mother,  mother!"  and  Birdyfutc  forget- 
ting all  else,  wept  for  the  dear  and  tender 
guardian  of  his  childhood  with  bitterness. 


*  UAWKSVIliW.  215 

Captain  Yescey  watched  him  with  sardonic 
contempt.  It  was  a  long  while  now  since  every 
germ  of  natural  affection  had  died  of  drought  in 
his  own  arid  heart,  and  he  thought  his  son's 
tears  showed  a  lack  of  manhood.  But  when  the 
fit  of  emotion  was  passed,  and  he  lifted  his  face 
from  the  table,  where  he  had  hidden  it  upon  his 
arms,  his  falher  saw  a  countenance  and  a  spirit 
of  which  he  might  have  been  proud  (had  he  not 
forfeited  all  claims  to  such  an  honest  pride)  to 
say  that  they  were  his  boy's.  Birdyfute  had 
grown  to  his  father's  stately  height,  and  while  he 
had  inherited  his  physical  strength,  grace  and 
courage,  he  had  taken  a  strain  of  his  mother's 
tender  beauty,  and  sliowed  in  his  countenance 
that  he  was  gentle  as  well  as  brave,  and  faitliful 
as  he  was  beautiful. 

When  Birdyfute  presently  left  the  room,  his 
father  guessed  whither  he  was  going  and  forbore 
remark.  Pausing  for  a  minute  outside  his 
mother's  door,  he  heard  Janet  Saunders  weeping 
and  lamenting  within.  "  O  !  my  poor  murdered 
lamb,"  sobbed  the  old  servant;  "ay,  surely 
murdered  ;  and  dying  wi'  such  sweet  words  o' 
]>ardon  on  her  blessed  lips  ?  Birdj'fute  may 
forgive  his  father ;  but  that  wall  I  never."  He 
entered  noiselessly  ;  but  Janet,  who  was  kneeling 
beside  the   bed   with  her  hands    stretched    out 


216  IIAAVKSVILW. 

toM-ard  her  darling,  heard  him,  and  sprang  up 
■\virli  a  cr}'  of  surprise  and  sorrow.  "  Birdyfute, 
ye're  too  hite  to  save  her — she's  dead  !"  cxchuined 
she,  clnspinghis  arm,  and  looking  into  his  face  with 
tearful  eyes;  "  ay,  she's  escaped  her  tyrant,  an'  I 
know  not  that  we  suld  grieve.  It's  better  as  it  is." 
Birdyfute  drew  near  the  bed  and  looked  at 
his  mother.  His  face  was  vevy  pale,  his  lips 
were  compressed,  his  eyes  were  hot  and  dry. 
Those  words  that  he  had  heai'd  Janet  utter, 
mingled  like  a  subtle  poison  with  his  blood,  and 
gave  his  feelings  the  corrosive  taste  of  hatred  to 
his  father.  Gazing  on  that  beloved  face,  even 
in  its  deathly  calm  wearing  the  impress  of  long 
Buflering,  his  heart  hardened  against  her  cruel 
tyrant,  and  he  breathed  aloud  some  angry  words 
of  threat  and  revenj^e.  Osvtlie  Dobbie,  who  had 
entered  the  room  uiipcrceived,  then  s[)oke :  "I 
was  by  when  your  inotlier  died,  au'  the  last 
thing  she  said  to  be  understood  was,  'Birdyfute, 
you  will  forgive  your  father.'  "What  the  dead  ha' 
60  desired  must  be  obeyed,  or  they  dont  rest  still 
i'  the  grave.  Janet  Saunders,  it's  no'  becoming 
to  mak'  ill  bluid  atween  father  an'  son  ;  it's  what 
f</u:  always  tried  to  liinder."  Birdyfute  felt  re- 
buked for  his  unchristian  passion,  and  turning  to 
Osythe,  bade  her  tell  him  all  particulars  of  his 
mother's  death. 


HAWKSVIEW.  217 

"  What  is  there  to  tell  ?"  replied  she,  seeing 
the  difficulty  of  complying  with  this  demand 
without  increasing  the  resentment  she  sought 
to  quell ;  "  her  hour  was  come,  and  she  just 
moaned  her  soul  away  to  parson  Bohun's  prayers. 
At  the  last  it  was  given  her  to  fancy  you  was 
there,  an'  she  said  what  I  tell  you  :  "  Birdyfute, 
you  will  forgive  your  father.'  " 

"  Only  she  knew  what  a  long  score  o'  wicked 
cruelties  there  was  to  forgive !"  cried  Janet, 
bitterly.  "  Hard  words  an'  harder  blows — aye, 
he's  a  strong,  bad,  remorseless  man ;  an'  you'd 
best  forgive  him,  Birdyfute,  for  he's  an  enemy  to 
fear." 

Up  to  tins  moment  the  lad  had  stood  with 
his  hand  laid  on  the  clay-cold  brow  of  his  dead 
mother,  while  the  great  tears  rolled  silently  down 
his  cheeks ;  but  at  those  words  of  Janet's  "  hard 
words  and  harder  hlows,''^  he  started,  and  the  fire 
rushed  into  his  face. 

"  Blows  /"  he  repeated.  "  Do  you  mean  that 
my  father  ill-used  her  so  infamously  as  that  .^" 

Janet  was  about  to  reply,  when  Osythe  sternly 
raised  her  hand,  "  Whisht,"  cried  she  ;  "  whisht 
— she  left  a  message  for  you,  Birdyfute,  hearken 
to  naught  else.  Ye  can't  unspeak  ane  oath,  or 
unstrike  ane  blow.  What  has  been,  has  been,  an' 
has  gone  wi'  her  to  her  grave.  There  let  it  lie 
10 


218  UAWKSVIETVV.  #        • 

as  she  bade  you,   if  you   would  not   break  lier 
rest.-' 

The  lad's  face  was  darkling,  and  his  eyes  were 
dry  as  he  passed  without  another  word  from  the 
room.  Osythe  covered  the  corpse,  and  said  warn- 
ingly  to  her  companion.  "  Take  heed,  Janet,  yon 
ha'  dropped  that  into  the  heart  o'  Birdyfute  that 
may  tempt  him  to  spill  his  father's  life.  I'm 
misdoubting  what  that  look  o'  his  meant  as 
he  went  out ;  it's  ower  like  the  Captain's  to 
please  me." 

Janet  rushed  away  after  her  former  nursling  in 
fearful  haste,  and  arrested  him  at  the  stair's  foot. 
She  held  him  fast  till  she  had  regained  her  breath 
to  speak,  and  then  entreated  him  to  seek  his 
father's  presence  no  more  that  night.  He  under- 
stood her  terror  and  said.  "  You  need  have  no 
fear,  Janet,  I  shall  not  brawl  with  him  with  my 
mother's  corpse  in  the  house.  I  will  not  even 
mention  one  of  the  bitter  accusations  that  are 
surging  upon  my  heart.  As  far  us  in  me  lies  I 
will  do  her  last  bidding ;  but  when  the  earth  has 
closed  over  her  poor  remains  we  must  separate. 
As  father  and  son  we  never  have  been,  and  never 
can  be  to  each  other  in  anything  but  name." 

The  captain  heard  the  whispering  of  voices, 
and  opening  the  door  bade  his  son  come  into 
the  parlor  •  and  releasing  himself  from  the  old 


•       4^  HAWKSVIEW.  219 

woman's  tremblingly  tenacious  grasp,  he  told 
her  to  be  at  peace  for  him,  and  obeyed  without 
any  visible  displeasure.  Yet,  when  they  were 
again  seated  opposite  to  each  other,  a  single  glance 
sufficed  to  show  the  father  that  his  son  had  heard 
and  seen  what  had  converted  him  into  his  mother's 
partisan  for  life.  Affecting  a  careless  unconcern, 
he  took  up  a  book  and  continued  smoking ;  but 
every  other  minute  he  raised  a  stealthy  scrutiny 
to  his  son's  overcast  countenance.  The  silence 
grew  more  and  more  awkward,  and  at  last,  de- 
termining to  brave  out  his  position.  Captain 
Vescey  flung  the  volume,  of  which  he  had  not 
read  a  line,  noisily  upon  the  table,  yawned, 
dragged  his  chair  closer  into  the  fire,  and  began 
to  talk.  At  first  Birdyfute  was  as  unresponsive 
as  if  he  had  not  heard  a  word  that  was  spoken  ; 
but  presently  a  remark  aroused  him  from  his  in- 
dignant taciturnity. 

"  My  uncle  Loftus  here — my  mother's  brother?" 
repeated  he  ;  "  where  is  he?  I  should  like  to  see 
•  him  at  once." 

''  He  is  most  likely  sulking  in  the  room  at  the 
other  side  of  the  hall.  He  and  I  do  not  pull  well 
together.  He  has  behaved  to  me  like  a  robber; 
but  perhaps  you  may  make  terms  with  him  for 
yourself.  He  has  no  child  of  his  own,  and  you 
are  his  nearest  relative,  so  far  as  I  know.     As  he 


220  UAAYK8VIEW.  ^ 

has  defrauded  you  of  your  inheritance,  he  must 
do  something  for  you  to  start  you  in  life." 

Birdyfute's  tlioughts  were  not  running  in  the 
same  groove  as  his  fathci-'s  by  any  means ;  but 
he  longed  to  know  the  relative  of  whom,  once  or 
twice  during  the  last  time  he  and  his  mother 
were  together,  he  had  heard  her  speak  witii  a 
tender  regret,  as  one  who  would  have  been  a 
faithful  friend  both  to  her  and  to  liim,  liad  she 
not  rejected  his  overtures  of  reconciliation  during 
that  luckless  crisis  of  her  life  when  she  had  re- 
turned to  the  j^rotection  of  her  cruel  and  treacher- 
ous husband.  Quitting  his  father's  presence,  he 
went  immediately  to  the  door  of  the  other  parlor, 
and  after  knocking  twice,  he  was  bid  to  come  in. 
Mr.  Loftus  rose  to  meet  him  rather  stiffly ;  but 
his  manner  softened  as  he  held  him  by  the  hand 
and  gazed  long  into  the  frank,  handsome  young 
face.  "  You  have  a  look  of  your  poor  mother, 
Marmaduke ;  but  you  are  a  true  Vescey  in  height 
and  mien — pray  God,  in  nothing  else,"  said  he, 
fervently. 

Mr,  Loftus  was  a  high-featured,  middle-aged 
gentleman,  quiet  and  courteous  in  manner,  but 
with  nothing  that  marked  him  as  Clara's  brother. 
Birdyfute's  first  impression  was  one  of  disappoint- 
ment ;  but  as  they  fell  into  conversation  the 
feeling  rapidly  wore  oft'.     He  made  bia  nephew 


HAWKSVIEW.  221 

give  liiin  a  sketch  of  bis  bringing-up  from  the 
time  that  Captain  Yescej  had  removed  him  with 
his  mother  from  Cliflend  to  the  present  time. 
The  episode  of  Mr,  Warrendar's  school  at  Boothe 
came  iirst  on  the  list,  then  followed  an  account  of 
two  years  at  Angers,  two  at  Brussels,  and  two 
Coblentz,  since  which,  he  had  been  six  months 
with  a  military  tutor,  who  took  pupils  to  prepare 
for  the  service. 

"  You  have  had  a  peculiar  training  for  an 
English  boy — it  must  have  destroyed  your  na- 
tionality, and  made  you  a  young  citizen  of  the 
world,"  remarked  Mr.  Loftus,  growing  more 
kindly  disposed  toward  his  relative  as  he  listened 
to  hitn. 

"  It  has  not  destroyed  my  longing  to  be  an 
English  soldier,"  replied  Birdyfute.  "  Perhaps 
it  may  serve  me  as  well  as  if  I  had  had  my 
education  at  one  of  our  own  public  schools.  My 
father  made  no  secret  of  why  he  sent  me  abroad 
— it  was  to  separate  me  from  my  mother."  The 
lad  kindled  into  indignation  at  all  the  cruel  re- 
collections that  name  brought  before  him,  and 
added,  impetuously,  "  it  was  his  choice  engine 
of  persecution ;  and  at  last  when  I  found  how 
miserable  he  could  make  her  through  me,  I  w&a 
glad  to  be  away  from  home.  He  was  a  harsh 
tyrant  to  both  of  us.     I  have  learnt  to  hate  him." 


222  HAWKSVIKW. 

"  Lad,  lad,  hate  nobody — hate  grows  from  bad 
words  to  bad  deeds,"  said  Mr.  Lot'tus,  startled  at 
the  force  of  untamed  passion  Birdyfute's  counte- 
nance, even  more  than  his  words,  betrayed. 
"  Your  father  has  proved  him.self  a  man,  hard  and 
unscrupulous;  and,  I  believe  in  my  heart,  that 
he  shortened  your  mother's  life  ;  but  it  makes  me 
tremble  to  hear  you  cr^'  out  you  hate  him." 

For  a  few  minutes  Birdyfute  was  silent  and 
sullen  ;  but  when  his  uncle  presently  began  to 
speak  of  her  who  lay  dead  in  the  chamber  above 
them,  of  what  she  had  suffered,  and  what  she  had 
died,  praying,  the  evil  spirit  departed  out  of  him. 
"  Since  we  came  away  from  ClifFend,"  said  he,  in 
a  calmer  tone,  "I  have  not  spent  three  months 
with  her  altogether.  About  three  years  since  I 
came  home  to  Otterbourne  for  a  few  weeks  ;  but 
it  wasa  wretclied  time.  !My  mother  was  ill — more 
in  mind  than  body,  perliaps — and  my  father 
seemed  to  take  a  cruel  delight  in  keeping  her  in 
a  continual  state  of  fret  and  exasperation,  ^heir 
quarrels  were  commonly  about  myself;  and  I 
remember  that  when  the  time  arrived^  for  me  to 
leave  honje,  I  went  away  without  regret.  Since 
then  I  have  never  seen  my  mother  till  to-night. 
It  is  well  she  left  me  such  a  message  as  she  did, 
fu)-,  when  I  recall  her  face  as  she  lies  in  her  coffin, 
my  heart  burns  with  rage."     The   poor  young 


HAWKSVIKW.  223 

fellow  stopped  abruptly,  dro2:)pecl  his  face 
upon  his  hands  and  burst  inio  tears.  Kecov- 
ering  himself  with  difficulty,  he  presently  went 
on,  "  We  were  so  happy  at  Cliffend  before  he 
came.  My  mother  talked  of  my  father  every 
day,  and  every  night  she  made  me  say  a  prayer 
for  his  safe  return.  And  when  he  did  return, 
what  a  miserable  change  ?  She  seemed  to  liave 
no  more  a  son.  I  seemed  to  have  no  more  a 
mother  !  I  cannot  understand  why  God  let  him 
find  us  out  as  he  did,  or  why  I  was  to  be  the  one 
sent  to  wa,rn  and  save  him,  when  he  was  caught 
by  the  tide  under  the  rocks.  It  was  like  bringing 
a  wild  beast  into  a  sheep  fold." 

"  Marmaduke,  it  is  my  belief  that  but  for 
Clara's  unlucky  inheritance,  which  was  a  blunder 
after  all.  Captain  Vescey  would  never  have 
acknowledged  your  mother's  marriage  or  your 
legitimacy.  One  tangible  benefit,  therefore,  ac- 
crued to  you  by  his  return,"  said  Mr.  Loftus, 
quietly. 

Birdyfute  started  and  colored.  "If  he  had  not 
reclaimed  us,  then  the  world  might  have  called 
me  base-born  !"  cried  he  bitterly. 

"  It  inigld.  Clara  would  not  have  found  it  easy 
to  prove  her  irregular  marriage ;  and,  if  I  re- 
member her  temper  aright,  the  crudest. pang  she 
saffered  during  the  long  years  of  her  desertion. 


22i  IIAWKSVIKW. 

miist  liave  been  tlie  dread  lest  she  liud  entailed  on 
you  an  irremediable  wrong.  You  bear  honestly  a 
name  tliat  was  noble  once ;  you  may  raise  it  to 
honor  and  distinction  again,  though  it  has  pleased 
the  two  last  generations  who  have  borne  it  to  trail 
it  sadly  in  the  mire." 

Birdyfute  looked  miserably  depressed  and 
grieved.  Mr.  Loftus  thought  he  was  anticipating 
the  hardships  of  his  future  career,  unbacked  by 
the  inlieritance  he  had  been  brought  up  to  expect, 
and  said,  in  a  rather  cooler  tone  than  he  had  yet 
adopted,  "Your  father  enjoyed  Otterbourne  law- 
lessly ;  he  stripped  the  house  of  all  the  pictures 
and  of  every  valuable  piece  of  furniture  in  it, 
besides  clearing  the  estate  of  wood.  I  have  been 
over  the  place  twice,  and  have  determined  to  sell 
it  in  lots.  I  set  no  store  by  the  propertj-  myself." 
The  young  man  made  no  answer,  and  his  uncle 
wished  he  had  spoken  less  hardly.  Though  inly 
desirous  of  befriending  him,  at  this  moment  he 
refrained  from  holding  out  expectations,  \thich 
ultimately  he  might  be  disinclined  to  realise. 
Tlie  lad  was  probably  the  genuine  character  he 
seemed  ;  but  still  he  was  so  like  his  father  in 
person,  that  their  dispositions  might  assimilato 
also,  and  to  give  wealili  to  bolster  up  iniquity 
was  what  Mr.  Loftus  would  never  do.  But 
Binlyfnte's  hi-art  was  too  full   <,t"  sdiioW   i\>v  ivw 


*• 


HAWKSVIEW.  225 

ideas  of  personal  interest,  such  as  his  father  liad 
suggested,  to  find  any  place  there  at  such  an 
hour.  He  did  not  differ  from  the  surface  coldness 
of  his  uncle,  and  though  not  a  single  promise  or 
profession  was  extended  toward  him,  he  felt  in- 
stinctively that  he  had  found  one  friend. 

Strong  as  was  Mr.  Loftus's  own  aversion  to 
Captain  Yescej,  in  every  further  reference  that 
was  made  to  him,  his  words  tended  rather  to 
soothe  than  increase  young  Marmaduke's  resent- 
ment. There  was  something  awful  to  the  gentle 
temper  of  poor  Clara's  brother,  in  the  thought  of 
the  unnatural  animosity  that  lay  between  her 
husband  and  her  son  ;  and  when  they  shook  hands 
and  parted  for  the  night,  his  final  advice  to  him 
was,  "  Marmaduke,  remember  your  mother's  last 
words;  try  to  forgive  your  father,  and  while 
decency  compels  you  to  remain  together,  strive  to 
live  with  him  peaceably. 
10* 


^ 


226  IIAWKSVIKW. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

The  Ycscey  vault  in  Boscoinbe  clinrcli  had  been 
opened,  and  there,  side  by  side  ■with  Captain 
Veseey's  mother,  >vlio  had  died  young  and  early, 
Clara's  great  sorrows  and  great  wrongs  were  laid 
to  rest.  Both  church  and  church-yard  were 
crowded  with  curious  spectators,  who  eagerly 
scanned  the  ehief  mourner's  dark  sardonic  coun- 
tenance, and  sympathized  even  to  tears  with  the 
sorrow  of  his  son.  Roger  Bohun,  who  read  the 
burial  service,  carried  home  to  Agnes  a  pitiful 
story  of  the  lad's  grief,  which  touched  her  mother's 
heart  to  the  quick.  "  lie  was  always  a  dear  good 
boy  !"  cried  she  warmly.  "Roger,  I  must  have 
him  here  to  cumfoit  him." 

1  know  not  how  Agnes  contrived  to  have  it 
iiitin)ated  to  Birdyfute  that  she  desired  to  see 
him  ;  but  he  certainly  made  his  appearance  at 
the  rectory  one  morning  soun  alter  breakfast,  and 
Roger  and  V.W  Burton,  who  knew  that  woman's 
counsel  comes  most  benignly  to  a  wounded  8i>irit, 


HAWK8VIEW.  227 

soon  left  them  to  tliemsclves.  In  liis  mourning 
he  looked  tall  and  manly — so  much  as  to  be 
almost  grown  out  of  remembrance,  Agnes  said  : 
but  again  and  again  her  eyes  filled  with  tears  as 
some  chance  word  or  gesture,  or  some  trick  of 
expression,  vividly  recalled  the  merry  nut-brown 
lad  who  used  to  come  to  the  curate  for  his  lessons 
seven  years  before.  In  its  melancholy  gravity 
his  countenance  was  singularly  fine,  his  eyes 
were  a  deep  blue,  clear  and  full ;  but  once  or 
twice  as  they  were  talking,  their  natural  light 
went  out,  and  a  passionate  gleam  like  lightning 
kindled  them  instead.  Agnes  listened  to  his 
every  word  with  a  lively  sympathy,  to  which  he 
could  not  but  be  sensible,  and  the  lad  showed  her 
all  his  heart — ^all  the  bitterness,  revenge  and 
hatred  which  his  mother's  dying  prayer  was 
powerless  to  stifle.  He  gave  utterance  to  a  de- 
nunciation so  savage  and  so  fierce,  in  one  gust  of 
angry  remembrance,  that  Agnes  laid  her  hand 
gently  upon  his,  and  said,  in  a  grieved,  warning 
tone,  "  O  Birdyfute !  for  your  own  sake,  quench 
this  wicked  rage!"  when  he  was  immediately 
silent. 

"  You  must  go  away  from  Hawksview.  You 
must  leave  your  father  for  the  present ;  it  will  be 
safest,  best,"  added  she,  soon. 

"  I  intend  to  do  so.     Mrs.  Bohun,  is  Mona  in 


228  IIAWKSVIKW. 

tlie  liouse?  Let  me  see  her,  and  get  away  from 
tliese  black  tliou«;lits  wliicli  put  me  almost  beside 
myself,"  said  the  young  man  ;  and  Agnes,  eager 
as  himself  to  change  the  subject,  rang  the  bell  for 
nurse  Jjeste  to  bring  down  stairs  all  her  youthful 
rank  and  file,  to  be  presented.  Mona  entered 
first  with  all  her  dignity,  in  starched  white  frock 
and  sky-blue  sash,  and  put  up  her  face  to  be 
kissed  ;  Mona  always  did  ])ut  up  her  face  to  be 
kissed  to  anybody  she  was  disposed  to  like.  The 
boys,  cooler  and  more  independent,  thrust  out 
their  little  lists,  and  after  a  few  minutes  of 
decorum,  escajK'd  through  the  ojieii  window,  into 
the  garden.  Mona  stayed  behind,  and  presently, 
by  some  feat  of  fascination  peculiar  to  herself,  she 
was  found*  perched  on  Birdyfute's  knee,  beguiling 
him  hito  all  manner  of  queer  little  stories  for  her 
amusement.  She  even  stuck  a  flower  into  his 
hair,  and  tlieu  lifting  up  his  face  by  the  chin 
bade  her  mannna  say  if  she  had  not  made  him 
look  pretty.  Marmaduko  forgot  himself  and 
laughed  ;  and  Agnes  thought,  and  rightly,  that 
there  was  not  much  to  be  fcaied  of  evil  in  a 
mind  that  could  yield  so  readily  to  the  infection 
of  a  child's  buoyant,  mirthful  spirit. 

"You  have  done  me  good.  AVill  you  let  me 
come  liere  again  ?"  said  he,  as  he  was  going 
awav.* 


riAWKSviEw.  229 

"  As  often  as  you  like,"  replied  Agnes,  with 
cordial  pleasure.  "  Come  to  us  every  day — 
whenever  you  want  cheering  or  refreshing." 

Birdyfute  was  not  slow  to  avail  himself  of  this 
permission  ;  and  for  several  days  he  might  have 
been  found  at  the  rectory  more  frequently  than 
at  Hawksview.  Mr.  Loftus  had  returned  to 
Scotland,  and  the  lad  needed  a  strong  and  daily 
moral  tonic  to  enable  him  to  endure  with  filial 
patience  his  father's  sardonic  company.  Captain 
Yescey  felt  or  feigned  a  sovereign  contempt  for 
his  son ;  he  had  a  caustic  wit,  which  he  indulged 
perpetually  at  his  expense,  jesting  at  his  principles 
and  opinions,  laughing  at  his  foreign  ways, 
mimicking  his  rather  singular  accent,  and  pro- 
voking him  whenever  he  could  to  an  outbreak  of 
passionate  resentment. 

Osythe  Dobbie  used  to  creep  into  the  hall  and 
listen  trembling,  afraid,  as  she  afterward  said, 
lest  something  bad  should  happen  when  they  were 
quarreling.  Birdyfute  tried  hard  to  control 
himself;  but  his  task  was  often  a  too  difficult  one 
and  many  there  were  at  this  season  who  overheard 
angry  threats  and  defiances  exchanged  between 
them,  which  took  eventually  a  terrible  significance. 
Tlie  whole  neighborhood  echoed  M-ith  stories  of 
what  was  passing  in  the  cottage  on  the  hill,  and 
with  predictions  of  what  would  happen  *if  the 


'J,'}<>  llAWKbVlEU  . 

fjitlier  and  son  contiriiRMl  mncli  longer  to  inli:il>it 
it  together.  JSquirc  Brougli  had  declined  to 
listen  to  any  proposals  for  the  sale  of  Ilawksview 
as  illegal,  considering  the  entail,  which  young 
Mannadiike  was  not  of  age  to  join  in  cutting  off, 
so  that  Caj)tain  Vescey  found  liimself  without 
that  sum  of  ready  money  on  which  he  had  begun 
to  count  as  almost  certain.  He  therefore  loiter- 
ed on  at  the  cottage,  the  solitude  of  which 
became  dail}'  more  irksome ;  indeed,  but  for  his 
contentions  with  his  son,  its  stagnation  would 
have  been  nothing  short  of  intolerable.  His 
chief  expectation  now  lay  in  the  possibility  of 
extracting  from  Mr.  Loftus  such  a  provision  for 
Birdyfute  as  he  might  share,  and  to  this  end  he 
indited  letter  after  letter  to  his  brother-in-law, 
who  never  vouchsafed  him  any  reply  whatever. 
Meantime  the  yoke  on  the  lad's  neck  grew  too 
heavy  to  be  borne ;  he  began  to  feel  that  escape 
from  it  he  must  at  whatever  risk  or  cost,  and  a 
feeling  remonstrance  addressed  to  him  by  Iloger 
Boliun,  on  the  scandal  caused  by  the  publicitj-  of 
liis  quarrels  with  his  father  determined  him  to 
sjjeak  out  his  resolve.  The  o})portunity  offered 
almost  as  soon  as  his  mind  was  made  up;  it  was 
one  evening  when  they  had  had  even  a  severer 
contest  than  usual,  and  the  had  blood  of  both 
was  xip. 


HAWKSVIEW.  231 

"  I  am  sick  of  tliis  life  !"  cried  Cirdyfutc,  with  a 
passionate  sweep  of  his  arm  above  his  head.  "It 
is  like  living  in  hell !  You  have  no  other  use  for 
me  than  to  make  me  your  butt,  and  so  you  must 
forego  that  indul<z:ence  for  the  future.  I  shall 
not  endure  this  dangerous  game  at  '  Who  is  the 
master  V  any  longer." 

""What  will  you  do,  my  intrepid  son?  How 
will  you  live?"  retorted  the  Captain  with  a  savage 
sneer.  "  What  if  I  will  not  let  you  go  ?  and  I 
won't  for  I  cannot  spare  my  butt — the  only 
amusement  1  have  in  this  dog-hole  !" 

"  You  think  to  break  my  spirit  as  you  broke 
my  mother's  ;  but  you  will  not  accomplish  it. 
She  loved  you,  and- 1  never  did  !"  said  Birdyfute, 
defiantly  ;  "  and  as  for  letting  me  go,  you  cannot 
keep  me  an  hour  longer  than  I  choose  to  stay  !" 
Captain  Vescey  laughed.  "I  can  trust  my 
well-trained  boy's  sense  of  duty — he  will  not 
forget  my  paternal  office  or  his  mother's  com- 
mand. Besides,  yon  have  not  a  guinea  in  the 
world,  and  are  not  quite  hero  enough  to  set  off  on 
a  penniless  search  after  fortune.  What  has 
become  of  your  martial  vaporing?  Are  you 
ready  to  toss  up  your  cap,  accept  the  sergeant's 
shilling,  and  cry  '  God  save  the  Queen!' on  six 
pence  a-day  ?" 

The  lad  chafed  indignantly  under  this  scornful 


232  HAWKSVIKW. 

tone  ;  but  he  made  no  reply,  and  his  fiither  pre- 
sently added,  in  a  threatening  way,  "  You  are 
proud  of  your  gcntlenianhood ;  take  care  lest  I 
pull  down  that  high  crest  of  yours,  and  proclaim 
you  to  the  world  what,  by  God,  you  arc — ." 

"  Stop  !"  shrieked  Birdyfute,  springing  to  his 
feet,  and  turning  livid  with  rage.  "  What  you 
are  going  to  say  is  a  lie  ! — a  lie  !  and  I  cast  it  in 
your  teeth !" 

Again  the  Captain  laughed  his  taunting  laugh, 
far  worse  to  bear  than  any  violence,  and  then 
said,  with  mocking  calm,  *'  You  are  Marmaduke 
Vescey  so  long  as  I  please,  and  no  longer,  though 
I  would  not  have  the  information  spread  beyond 
you  and  me  at  present ;  but  my  marriage  with 
your  mother  was  no  marriage  at  all,  and  for  a 
most  excellent  reason — "  lie  paused  and  watched 
the  lad  witli  curious  triumphant  eye,  as  if  revel- 
ing in  the  keen  torture  that  he  had  inflicted. 
When  he  had  given  his  words  time  enough  to 
sting,  he  went  on  with  derisive  jocularity,  "You 
want  to  know  for  what  reason — for  the  best  of  all; 
because  I  had  a  ftu'mer  wife  living,  who  is  living 
yet,  and  who  may  claim  me  any  day  for  aught  I 
know." 

Captain  Vescey  <7tc?  lie,  and  his  lie  was  but 
the  inspiration  of  the  subtly  vindictive  moment. 
Birdyfute  was  sure  of   it,  althougli  it    sounded 


HAWKSVIEW.  233 

truth  like — and  the  aspersion  of  his  dead  mother's 
honor — the  false  blot  inflicted  on  his  own  name, 
dropped  like  a  spark  on  gunpowder.  For  an 
instant  he  stood  panting,  glaring,  wild-beast 
passions  tearing  at  his  heart :  then  he  sprang, 
and  the  struggle  was  deadly.  The  elder  man 
was  taken  unawares,  or  his  virile  strength  would 
ha-ve  proved  more  than  a  match  for  the  tiger- 
fierceness  of  his  son.  As  it  was,  he  was  borne 
to  the  ground  with  a  crash ;  and  Birdyfute,  with 
his  knee  on  his  chest,  and  his  hands  clutching 
his  throat,  dared  him  to  repeat  the  monstrous 
fable. 

Osythe  Dobbie  rushed  in  at  the  noise,  crying, 
"  Help  here,  or  there'll  be  murder  done !"  and 
her  son,  who  was  in  the  kitchen  by  stealth, 
come  to  fetch  the  broken  meats  which  the  old 
woman  freely  dispensed  to  her  family,  followed 
her.  They  tried  to  drag  the  lad  off;  but  the 
Cain-demon  in  his  wild  blood  was  strong ;  and 
their  efforts  half  paralysed  by  fear,  were  vain. 
His  grasp  on  his  father's  throat  tightened  instead 
of  relaxing. 

"  Are  you  going  to  strangle  me?"  gasped  the 
Captain.     "  You  are  my  own  son  ;  no  doubt  of  it. 

"  Unsay  that  damnable  lie  !"  cried  Birdyfute, 
hanging  his  distorted  face  over  his  father's. 
"  Unsay  it,  or " 


234  IIAWKSVIF.W, 

"  I  only  meant  to  try  you.  1  was  never  mar- 
ried to  any  woman  except  your  motlier." 

The  lad's  lips  were  white,  his  eyes  had  a  bloody 
glare  in  them,  as,  for  a  moment,  he  M'renched 
the  Captain's  head  from  the  floor,  then  dashed 
it  violently  down,  and  relinquished  his  hold. 
"  Never  breathe  it  again,  or  I  shall  forget  that 
your  blood  is  in  my  veins,  and  kill  you  ?"  said 
he,  with  a  savage  gesture  of  ins  clenched  hand. 

Captain  Yescey  was  evidently  cowed.  lie 
rose  slowly,  and  with  difficulty  ;  his  great  frame 
shaking  from  head  to  foot ;  but  he  looked  more 
dizzied  and  confused  than  enraged.  A  dead 
silence  followed  the  brief  tornado  of  passion. 
Young  Marmaduke  stood  staring  and  heaving 
M'ith  the  subsiding  violence  of  his  wrath  for 
several  minutes,  then  turned  short  on  his  heel 
and  went  out  into  the  hall.  Osythe  Pobbie 
and  her  son  followed  him  ;  and  saw,  with  relief, 
that  he  took  his  hat  and  coat  from  their  peg,  and 
j)Ut  them  on. 

"  You're  going,  an'  it's  well,"  said  the  old 
woman  ;  "  life  isn't  safe  between  you  two. 
AVhere  sal  you  bide  to-night?  I'll  send  your 
clothes  after  you  ;  an'  whatever  you  do,  don't 
come  back." 

"Send  them  to  I'ootho,  directed  for  me  at 
my  uncle  Loftus's — I  shall  go  there,"  was  the 


HAVVKSVIEW.  235 

reply  ;  "  and  send  the  books  in  my  room  home  to 
the  rectory,  with  a  message  that  I  am  off." 

Osythe  opened  the  cottage  door,  and  looked 
abroad.  "It's  a  fine  night,  and  the  moon's 
rising,"  said  she  ;  "you'll  go  by  the  wood  ?  Ila' 
you  any  money  ?" 

"  Enough  to  carry  me  to  Scotland.  Well, 
Osythe,  it  has  soon  come  to  good-bye  again." 

"  It  has,  lad.  I  wish  you  better  luck  than  you 
ha'  had  since  I  knew  you."  They  shook  hands 
without  more  words,  and  separated.  Marmaduke 
marching  off  with  firm  step  and  head  erect,  as  if 
the  recent  conflict  had  proved  to  him  a  latent 
strength,  which  would  be  a  competent  match  for 
all  the  foes  he  need  expect  to  encounter  in  the 
future  campaigns  of  the  war  of  life.  Osythe 
watched  him  out  of  sight ;  then,  with  a  thank- 
ful ejaculation,  closed  the  door,  sent  her  son 
back  to  the  kitchen  to  collect  his  spoil  and  be- 
gone, and  herself  went  into  the  presence  of  her 
master. 

Crptain  Yescey  was  sitting  in  his  chair  by 
the  fireside,  his  cigar-case  in  his  hand,  and  a 
very  unsuccessful  attempt  at  coolness  on  his 
countenance.  "  So  the  young  reptile  has  chosen 
to  take  himself  off,"  said  he,  as  the  old  servant 
appeared. 

"  He's  gone,  an'  not  a  minute  ower  soon.     1  ou 


23C  HAAVKSVIiaV. 

may  be  thankful  me  an'  John  was  at  hand,  or 
worse  ud'  ha'  euiue  o'  your  strite." 

"  Pooli,  pooh  !  Marniadiike's  no  assassin.  Young 
curs  bark  lustily,  but  they  fly  at  the  shadow  of  a 
kick — he's  combative  but  not  destructive ;  too 
much  of  the  mother's  milk  in  him  to  love  the 
taste  of  blood  yet.  No  saying  what  he  may 
come  to  though  I''  The  Captain  having  lighted 
a  fresh  cigar  looked  round  the  room  for  his  shoot- 
ing-cap, saw  it  on  the  window  seat  and  put  it  on. 

"  "What  arc  you  going  to  do  ?  Your'e  not 
going  out  to-night,  surely!"  exclaimed  Osytlie, 
in  renewed  alarm,  "  you'll  never  follow  him  ?" 

"  Follow  him !  No,  I  prefer  his  room  to  his 
company  at  present.  But  I  promised  that  poach- 
ing fellow  Branker,  that  I  would  catch  him  in  my 
wood  before  lt»ng,  and  I'm  just  in  the  temper  to 
give  him  a  meeting  now.  I'll  not  carry  my  gun, 
but  oidy  the  loaded  stick  ;  fetch  it  from  upstairs, 
Osytlie." 

"Master,  if  you'll  be  advised  you'll  bide  at 
home,  one  ruftting's  enough  i'  one  night." 

i'  One  ruffling  warms  the  blood  for  another,  so 
I'll  not.  be  advised  ;  but  on  second  thoughts  it 
may  be  as  well  to  take  my  gun.  That  Brankor 
is  a  dcs])erate  fellow,  and  he  -in  destructive 
amongst  the  game." 

Osythe  talked  on  to  gain  time,  and  succeeded 


HATVK8VIEW.  237 

by  one  feint  and  another  in  delaying  the  Captain 
fall  ten  minutes,  but  at  last  he  pushed  her  im- 
patiently aside,  and  laughed  at  her  detected 
fears.  "I  am  not  going  to  provoke  another 
struggle  with  my  club,"  said  he ;  "  I  don't  wish 
the  last  of  my  race  to  die  on  the  gallows — I  shall 
feel  his  fingers  at  my  throat  for  a  week — he  can 
take  a  good  grip,  but  he  uses  his  nails.  Stand  bv, 
dame,  and  let  me  pass." 

Captain  Vescey  strode  out  of  the  house  and 
down  the  same  path  to  the  wood,  as  his  son  had 
taken  half  an  hour  before.  When  he  had  gone 
about  a  couple  of  hundred  yards,  he  turned  back 
and  shouted  out  to  Osythe,  who  still  stood  in  the 
porch,  "  go  to  bed,  dame,  don't  wait  up  for  me ;  it 
may  be  morning  when  I  come  home.  Leave  the 
door  on  the  latch." 

"  Yery  well,  sir,"  responded  the  servant ;  and 
in  a  few  moments  more  the  darkness  swallowed 
him  up  from  her  sight.  She  went  into  the  kitchen 
soliloquizing:  "  The  lad  has  had  time  to  get  clear 
away — he  walks  smartly — there's  naught  to  dread ; 
but  it's  a  fearsome  thing  to  see  them  two  men 
quarrel.  Father  an'  son  too — right  glad  I  am  'at 
Birdyfute's  away  for  good  ai^  all — we'll  may  be 
know  what  peace  means  again  now.  What 
strange  things  happen  i'  t'  world,  an'  noboby 
heeding." 


238  HAWKSVIKW. 

The  old  woman  made  herself  a  comfortable  cup 
of  tea  to  restore  her  shattered  nerves,  and  sat  till 
near  midnight  warming  herself  over  the  fire  ;  and 
as  her  master  had  not  then  returned,  she  lighted 
her  candle  and  went  to  bed,  very  tired  of  her  vigil 
and  wondering  out  of  which  of  her  master's  pos- 
sessions she  could  best  indemnify  herself  fur  so 
much  overwork. 


IIAWKSVIEW.  239 


CHAPTER  Vn. 

That  same  night  it  happened  that  Koger 
Bohuii  and  Eli  Burton  were  returning  from  a 
missionary  meeting  that  had  been  held  at  Bootlie. 
Thej  were  on  horseback,  and  took  the  bridle- 
path across  the  lields  and  moor  to  shorten  their 
ride,  the  moonlight  making  the  way  clear  and 
safe,  which  it  was  not  on  dark  nights  on  account 
of  two  or  three  unfenced  quarries  on  the  healh. 
The  road  over  the  moor  was  marked  by  great 
blocks  of  stone,  set  up  at  intervals,  with  a  daub 
of  white  paint  on  the  top  to  render  them  more 
conspicuous,  and  these  guides  showed  for  a  con- 
siderable distance  in  advance,  rising  out  of  the 
black  sea  of  ling  and  whins.  The  two  gentlemen 
were  riding  silently,  Eli  Burton  in  front,  when  a 
figure  of  a  man  appeared  at  a  short  distance  to 
the  left,  coming  straight  through  the  heath 
toward  the  path.  The  curate  saw  hira  first,  and 
said,  "  Is  this  Marmaduke  Yescey  ? — it  has  his 
air.-' 

"  Yes.  Running  away,  I  dare  wager  my  head  !" 


240  nA^\'xsvIE^v. 

replied  Eli ;  and  then,  raising  liis  voice-,  lie  hailed 
the  traveler,  who,  as  soon  as  he  descried  the 
horsemen  had  bent  his  steps  so  as  to  avoid  them, 
by  striking  into  the  road  at  a  point  which  they 
had  passed.  No  answer  was  returned,  so  the 
curate  cried  out,  "Birdyfute,  yon  are  out  late  to- 
night ;  stop  and  tell  us  where  you  are  bound  for." 
This  brought  the  young  man  to  a  halt.  "I'm 
bound  for  Boothe,"  cried  he  ;  and  waving  his  arm 
in  token  of  farewell,  he  marched  on. 

"  My  mind  misgives  me.  1  don't  quite  like  the 
look  of  this,"  said  Roger,  tlioughtfulh'.  I  should 
like  to  ride  after  the  boy,  and  ask  him  what  Jias 
come  to  pass.  It  is  his  habit  to  whistle  on  his 
way,  lie  seems  agitated  and  hurried ;  and  which 
way  has  he  come  ?" 

"  lie  must  have  come  from  the  Ilawksvicw 
wood,  and  out  at  Dean's  Gap.  I  do  not  see  any 
good  to  be  gained  by  following  him.  You  do  not 
wish  him  to  go  back  home  if  he  has  succeeded  in 
breaking  away." 

"  No,  assuredly ;  and  we  are  late  already. 
Agnes  will  be  on  the  watch  for  us."  The  cura^ 
put  his  horse  in  motion  again,  and  they  rode  faster 
to  make  up  for  the  minutes  they  had  lost. 

"It  was  a  (]ii;iittr  past  ten  when  we  left 
Boothe;  it  must  be  nearly  eleven  now,"  Eli  re- 
niurked,  as  they  trotted   into  Moat.     There  was  a 


HAWK8VIEW.  241 

noisy  group  abont  the  door  of  the  alehouse,  whom 
the  landlord  had  just  turned  out ;  they  were 
quiet  for  a  moment  as  the  parson  rode  by,  and 
then  their  half-quarrelsome  merriment  broke  out 
louder  than  before.  Roger  felt  vexed ;  he  had 
waged  a  long  and  wearisome  crusade  against 
beer-bibing  in  the  parish,  but  with  little  success. 

"  Slews  and  Branker,  as  usual,"  said  he  ;  "  and 
Branker's  wife  is  lying  at  death's  door.  She  will 
never  rise  from  her  bed  again." 

"  I  did  not  see  Branker.  I  thought  that  heavy 
man  by  the  door  post  was  Matthew  Topham," 
Eli  Burton  interposed. 

"  It  might  be.  I  did  not  give  a  second  look 
their  way  ;  but  I  believe  it  was  Branker." 

Roger,  however,  was  mistaken;  for  just  at  the 
entrance  of  Boscombe  Lane  they  met  Branker 
walking  very  rapidly  and  quite  sober.  He  slunk 
by  without  speaking,  surlily  touching  his  cap ; 
and  the  curate  observed  to  Eli,  as  he  did  so,  that 
the  man  must  have  been  out  on  .one  of  his 
poaching  excursions,  whieli  would  by  and  bye 
bwng  him  into  trouble.  It  was  just  a  quarter  to 
twelve  by  the  rectory  hall  clock  when  they  ar- 
rived at  home;  both  Roger  and  Eli  observed  it, 
and  said  it  was  a  pretty  good  night's  traveling  for 
their  ponies  to  do  nine  miles  in  an  hour  and 
a  half,  especially  of  such  rough  road.  Agnes 
11 


242  HAWKSYIEW. 

was  waiting  up  to  receive  them,  and  when  she 
had  lieard  the  account  of  the  meeting  at  Bootlie, 
who  was  there,  and  who  spoke,  and  what  the 
speeches  were  like,  Roger  told  her  of  their  ren- 
counter  on  the   moor   with  Marmaduke  Yescey. 

"I  don't  care  how  he  went,  so  that  he  is  delivered 
from  his  father's  power  I"  cried  she,  "  I  dare  not 
tell  you  what  catastrophe  I  feared  while  tliey 
were  together.  Nothing  is  too  dreadful  to  have 
happened,  with  their  feelings  toward  each  other." 

"  Right,  Agnes.  Now  I  know  there  is  an  >. 
anxiety  off  your  mind,  and  off  mine  too,  for  that 
matter,"  returned  Roger  cheerfully.  And  little 
imagining  the  terriLle  revelations  of  the  morrow, 
they  all  felt  as  if  a  difficulty  and  a  danger  were 
taken  out  of  the  way. 

Murder !  There  had  been  murder  done  in 
Ilawksview  wood  in  the  dead  of  the  night !  Two 
laborei-s,  going  to  tlieir  work  early  in  the  morning, 
had  found  the  body  lying  beside  the  path — the 
head  beaten  in — the  face  one  bruised  and  broken 
mass — every  feature  undistinguishable;  but  the}'- 
recognised,  in  the  gigantic  frame,  the  "  Black 
Lord"  of  the  country  gossip's  tales;  and  rushing 
down  to  Hoat  they  proclaimed  their  hideous  news, 
and  found  reluctant  help  to  carry  the  corj)8e  home 
to  the  haunted  house  upon  the  hill.  All  about 
the  ])laco,  where  tlie  murdered  man  lay,  the  turf 


HAWKSVIEW.  243 

was  cut,  and  the  ferns  torn,  and  trampled  as  if 
there  had  been  a  long  and  deadly  struggle.  The 
Captain's  gun  lay  at  some  distance,  both  barrels 
discharged ;  but  that  plunder  had  not  beeu  the 
object  of  the  manslayer  was  evident  from  his 
purse  and  watch  remaining  untouched  in  his 
pockets.  Dr.  Drake  examined  the  body,  and 
gave  it  as  his  opinion  that  the  murder  had  been 
premeditated,  and  that  Captain  Vescey  had  been 
attacked  from  behind  by  a  heavy  blow  from  some 
blunt  weapon,  which  had  not  fulfilled  its  purpose 
of  stunning  him  ;  that  he  had  then  turned  on  his 
assailant  and  fired  but  ineifectually,  and  dropping 
his  gun  had  engaged  in  a  hand  to  hand  conflict ; 
but  dizzied  by  the  former  blow,  he  had  probably 
fallen  over  the  roots  of  the  elm,  under  which  he 
was  found,  and  thus  lay  in  his  antagonist's  power. 
Tliat  they  must  have  been  pretty  evenly  matched, 
as  regarded  personal  strength,  seemed  undoubted 
from  the  traces  of  their  struo-o-le. 

AV^ho  was  the  murderer?  who  was  the  murderer? 
A  whisper  gave  the  name  first;  but,  ere  noon, 
the  whisper  grew  to  a  loud  execration — it  was 
the  murdered  num's  own  son — Marinaduke  Ves- 
cey, the  younger.  Suspicion  pointed  at  him 
straight ;  and  as  the  fearful  quarrel  that  preceded 
his  flight  oozed  out  through  Osythe  Dobbie  and 
her  son,  suspicion  in  most  men's  minds  was  con- 


24A  HAWKS  VIEW. 

verted  into  a  eertaiuty.  The  story  with  all  its 
horrible  details,  came  soon  to  the  rectory.  Roger 
Buhun  and  Ell  heard  that  Birdyfate  was  suspect- 
ed, without  daring  to  lift  up  a  voice  for  him  ;  but 
Agnes,  with  pale  cheeks  and  eyes  full  of  tears, 
eagerly  exclaimed  "  I  will  pledge  my  life  on  his 
innocence.  He  might  have  struck  a  fatal  blow  in 
his  mad  rage ;  but  he  is  incapable  of  deliberate 
assassination !"  But  Agnes  was  in  a  minority  of 
one,  against  the  opinion  of  Astondale,  combined 
to  condemn  him. 

The  coroner's  inquest  went  closely  into  the 
evidence,  entirely  circumstantial  as  it  was,  and 
returned  a  unanimous  verdict  of  wilful  murder 
against  Marmaduke  Vescey,  the  younger.  "War- 
rants were  immediately  issued  for  his  apprehen- 
sion ;  and  the  notorious  evil  living  of  Captain 
Yescey  was  forgotten  in  his  miserable  fate,  and 
the  hatred  of  his  murderer.  Every  threat,  every 
angry  and  incautious  word  that  Birdyfute  had 
ever  uttered,  was  now  remembered  against  him, 
and  quoted  with  such  additions  and  enforced 
meanings  as  the  imaginative  echo  chose  to  give. 
That  day  will  long  and  Idng  be  remembered 
through  the  valley,  where  everyone  talked  and 
no  one  worked  ;  and  pilgrimages  were  made  to 
the  scene  of  the  minder,  and  then  to  Ilawksview, 
for  the  gloomy  pleasure  of  watching  the  window 


HAWKSVIEW.  245 

of  the  room  where  the  dead  man  lay  and  the 
inquest  was  sitting. 

Before  night  it  was  known  that  Marmaduke 
Yescey  had  been  apprehended  as  he  was  leaving 
Boothc ;  and  the  next  day  he  was  examined  be- 
fore the  magistrates,  and  committed  to  take  his 
trial  on  the  charge  of  parricide. 

"  I  will  never  believe  he  did  it  I"  cried  Agnes 
Bohun,  with  an  outburst  of  compassionate  tears, 
"Never  !  Roger,  will  you  go  over  and  see  him  ? 
He  must  be  well  defended.  O  !  Eli  Burton,  the 
poor  lad  has  nothing,  you  must  undertake  his 
cause." 

"  He  might  have  better  counsel  than  myself; 
but  I  will  go  with  Koger  and  volunteer  myself  if 
you  wish  it ;  but  1  must  tell  you  that  my  own 
impression  against  him  is  strong,  very  strong," 
Eli  gravely  replied.  Agnes  glanced  at  her  hus- 
band's face,  then  at  Eli  Burton's,  and  saw  that 
both  went  with  the  stream  ;  but  for  once  she 
dared  to  maintain  her  own  opinion  against 
Roger's,  and  not  to  maintain  it  outwardly  only, 
but  to  be  strengthened  and  upheld  by  it  in  her 
natural  sorrow  and.  anxiety  for  the  lad  she  had 
known  and  liked  so  long  and  dearly. 


246  HAWKSVIEW. 


CHAPTER  Vm. 

Marmaduke  Yescey  had  been  removed  to 
Carlisle,  and  thither  journeyed  the  curate  and 
Eli  Burton — charged  with  many  messages  of 
liope  and  kindness  from  Agnes — the  day  after 
the  murdered  man  had  been  deposited  in  the 
vault  of  Boscombe  church.  They  found  him  in 
a*  grave  mood,  neither  sorrowful  nor  defiant,  nor 
yet  anxious,  but  only  chafed  by  the  rigorous 
confinement  to  which  he  was  subjected.  He 
scarcely  seemed  to  suppose  it  necessary  to  assert 
his  innocence ;  and  his  natural  assumption  that 
no  one  who  knew  him  could  for  an  instant 
believe  him  guilty,  carried  a  welcome  doubt  to 
the  minds  of  both  Roger  and  Eli.  This  doubt 
was  still  further  increased  at  an  interview  they 
afterward  had  with  Mr.  Loftus,  who  had  already 
engaged  the  highest  talent  of  the  bar  for  his 
nepiiew's  defence,  and  who  was  firmly  persuaded 
that  he  was  not  cognizant  of  his  father's  murder. 
"With  tliis  consolation,  slight  though  it  was, 
against   the   body   of  evidence   arrayed   on   the 


HAWKSVIEVV.  217 

other  side,  Roger  Bohun  and  his  friend  returned 
to  Boscombe.  Agnes  smiled  triumphantly  :  "  I 
.was  sure  you  would  change  your  minds,"  said 
she ;  "  he  will  be  acquitted  !" 

But  though  she  believed  this  firmly,  the  in- 
terval until  tlie  trial  came  on,  was  one  of  most 
wearing   anxiety ;  and   when   it   did   come,   the 
mental  distress  she  experienced  was  so  intense, 
that  if  it  had  been  a  child  of  her  own  who  was 
in  Birdyfute's  awful  position  she  could  not  have 
suffered  more.     She  accompanied  Roger  and  Eli 
Burton  to  Carlisle,  and  was  in  court  from  morn- 
ing until  evening  during  the  whole  of  the  two 
days  and  a  half  that  the  trial  lasted.     Miss  Sage 
Booty   and   Squire   Brough   were   present    also, 
and  many  other  Astondale  folk,  who  were  not 
amongst  the  cloud  of  witnesses.     When  Marma- 
duke  first  appeared,  he  looked  much  agitated ; 
his   countenance   changed  repeatedly,  his   color 
came  and  went  like  a  modest  young  girl's,  and 
on  the  strength  of  this  emotion  two-thirds  of  the 
court  condemned  him  as  a  truculent,  cowardly, 
£elf-convicted  criminal ;    but  Agnes,  who  never 
took  her  eyes  from  his  face,  read  in  it  no  such 
signs   of  guilt,  and   better  physiognomists  than 
herself  said  it  was  a  fine,  handsome,  ingenuous 
countenance,  expressive  of  strong  and  untamed 
passions,  but  altogether  clear  of  craft  and  nialig- 
uancy. 


ii4S  llAAVKBVIEW. 

But  the  lad's  fate  depended  not  on  what  this 
person  or  that  person  thought  of  his  appearance, 
but  upon  the  evidence  that  could  be  brought 
for  or  against  him.  When  the  examination  of 
witnesses  had  gone  on  for  some  time,  Agnes  felt 
as  if  a  net  of  false  appearances  were  being 
drawn  gradually  around  him  ;  he  became  con- 
scious of  it  himself,  and  seemed  to  gather  his 
forces  up  to  watch  for  a  weak  place  to  break 
through.  It  was  toward  the  end  of  the  second 
day  that  he  passed  a  slip  of  paper  to  Eli  Burton, 
with  a  few  penciled  words :  "  It  will  turn  on 
a  question  of  time — have  Osytlie  Dobbie  recalled 
to  speak  to  the  hour  I  left  Hawksview,  and  the 
Boothe  innkeeper  to  the  time  I  reached  his  house." 

Osythe  Dobbie  declared  that  it  was  just  ou 
the  stroke  of  ten  when  she  shut  the  prisoner  out 
of  Hawksview  front  door,  and  the  innkeeper  at 
Boothe  stated  that  it  was  as  nearly  as  lie  could 
remember  half-past  twelve  when  he  was  rung 
up  out  of  his  bed  to  admit  the  traveler,  who 
said  he  had  walked  from  beyond  the  moor  since 
moon-rise.  He  looked  tired  and  dusty  ;  but  not 
to  say  exhausted.  There  was  nothing  suspicious 
fri  his  appearance.  He  ate  a  hearty  supper ; 
went  to  bed,  saying  he  should  want  to  break- 
fast and  get  away  very  early  in  the  morning. 
Between   his  leaving  Hawksview   and  reaching 


HAWKSVIEW.  249 

tlie  inn  at  Bootlie  no  one  had  met  tlie  prisoner 
except  Roger  Bohim  and  Eli  Burton.  They 
spoke  to  the  place  where  they  had  passed  him, 
and  to  the  hour  as  nearly  as  they  could.  The 
place  was  distant  about  three  miles  and  a  half 
from  Havvksview,  and  about  five  from  Boothe. 

Thereupon  ensued  a  question  of  walking. 
Could  a  man  walk  three  miles  and  a  half,  and 
commit  such  a  murder  as  had  been  committed 
within  a  single  hour  ?  Four  miles  an  hour  was 
fair  walking  on  level  ground.  The  prisoner,  as 
was  in  evidence,  had  crossed  the  encumbered  heath, 
where  his  progress  must  necessarily  have  been 
slower  than  on  the  high  road  ;  yet,  at  such  a 
time,  he  was  at  such  a  distance  from  the  scene 
of  the  murder.  To  this  it  was  objected  that 
the  hours  named  were  conjectural — nobody  ex- 
cept Osythe  Dobbie  could  swear  to  an  exact  point 
of  time — and  in  this  case,  a  single  half,  or  even 
a  quarter  of  an  hour,  was  vital  in  its  bearing 
on  the  prisoner's  guilt  or  innocence.  The  father 
and  son  after  a  bitter  quarrel  had  left  their 
home,  and  gone  in  the  same  direction  within 
ten  minutes  of  each  other.  A  witness  named 
Branker  stated,  on  oath,  that  he  had  gone  up 
into  ITawksview  wood  to  look  after  some  snares 
that  he  had  set  for  game,  and  that  he  saw 
Captain  Yescey  and  his  son  together  in  that 
11* 


!250  HAWKSVIKW, 

wood ;  and  that  suspecting  that  they  had  come 
out  to  look  al'tor  liini,  he  had  hidden  hiuiself 
behind  a  pheasant  shed  until  they  had  gone  by, 
when  lie  had  run  away,  and  returned  home.  The 
prisoner  and  his  father  were  talking  angrily 
when  he  saw  them  ;  they  went  in  the  direction 
of  tlie  elm  tree  where  the  body  was  found  ;  and 
he,  the  witness,  escaped  in  a  contrary  direction, 
which  obliged  liim  to  make  a  circuitous  route 
to  get  back  to  Moat.  An  attempt  was  made 
to  throw  discredit  on  this  man's  testimony,  be- 
cause of  his  known  bad  reputation  ;  and  because 
he  had  himself  once  stood  in  the  dock,  charged 
with  a  brutal  murder,  similar  in  character  to 
the  present  one,  but  which  could  not  be  brought 
home  to  him.  This  attempt,  however,  failed, 
and  rather  damaged  Birdyfute's  case  than  other- 
wise. Then  as  to  the  instrument  with  which 
the  deed  had  been  committed,  there  were 
suspicious  words  and  circumstances  against  the 
prisoner.  It  was  a  short,  heavy  iron  bar,  jagged 
and  rubt  eaten ;  and  John  Dobbie  swore  to  the 
fuUowinjr  convei'safion  between  himself  and 
Captain  Vescey's  son.  The  iron  bar  was  lyiiig 
on  the  floor  of  an  out-house,  with  several  vermin- 
traps  and  uther  rubbibh ;  and  about  a  week 
bffore  the  murder  was  committed,  whilst  John 
Dobbie    was   looking  amongst   them   for  a   trap 


HAWK8VIEW.  251 

to  take  home  to  catch  the  rats  in  his  barn,  the 
prisoner  came  in  and  asked  him  what  he  was 
about.  Then  he  picked  up  the  bar,  and  swung 
it  round  his  head,  as  if  it  had  been  a  light  switch, 
and  brought  it  down  with  a  crack  upon  a  block 
of  wood,  saying,  "  if  that  were  your  pate,  John, 
I  think  there'd  be  no  need  to  repeat  the  dose !" 
John  replied,  "  that  he  believed  his  skiftl  was 
uncommon  thick ;  but  he  wouldn't  like  it  to 
be  tried  with  that  tool,  in  a  hand  like  young 
master's."  They  then  fell  to  talking  of  games 
that  brought  out  the  muscles,  and  strengthened 
them ;  and  the  prisoner  plucked  off  his  coat, 
pushed  up  his  shirt-sleeves,  and  showed  John  his 
arm,  "proudlike  to  let  me  see  what  a  limb  it 
was  for  a  lad,"  the  witness  said.  Then  the 
prisoner  straightened  his  right  arm  and  de- 
fied witness  to  bend  it.  Witness  tried  with  all 
his  might,  but  he  could  no  more  bend  it  than  he 
could  bend  the  iron  bar.  The  prisoner  laughed, 
and  said  some  day  it  would  deal  straighter  and 
stronger  blows  than  any  it  had  dealt  yet ;  he 
then  held  it  out,  looked  along  it,  doubled  his  fist 
and  shook  it,  with  a  wicked  look  in  his  eyes; 
then  putting  on  his  coat  again,  he  took  up  the 
bar  and  walked  off  with  it.  The  next  day,  while 
witness  was  cleaving  fire- wood,  the  prisoner  came 
to  him  in  the  yard,  and  asked  him  if  he  had  re- 


252  HAWKS  VIEW. 

moved  the  iron  bar  from  Avitliiii  the  house-porch 
where  he  had  placed  it ;  witness  had  not  seen  it 
since  he  carried  it  away ;  witness  never  did  see 
it  again,  until  a  week  after  the  murder,  when  it 
was  found  in  llawksview  wood,  amongst  the 
long  grass  and  ferns,  about  a  dozen  yards  from 
the  elm  tree,  where  the  body  of  Captain  Vescey 
had  15^en  discovered.  The  examination  of  this 
witness  closed  the  case  for  the  prosecution.  Few 
persons  were  called  for  the  defence ;  and  a  real 
sickness  of  heart  fell  on  Agnes  as  she  listened  to 
the  speeches  of  the  counsel  on  each  side.  Birdy- 
fute  had  fuuiid  her  out;  and  he  might  have  read 
the  fluctuations  of  his  fate  in  her  face,  even 
if  he  liad  not  heard  himself  first  eloquently  de- 
nounced as  a  cold-blooded,  cowardly,  midnight 
murderer,  by  one  gentleman  in  a  wig  ;  and  then 
pathetically  cited  as  a  victim,  whose  life  was 
falsely  sworn  away  by  another.  Tlie  summing 
up  was,  on  the  whole,  against  him  ;  but  the  judge 
dwelt  carefully  on  the  time  between  the  prisoner's 
leaving  home  and  reaching  Bootlie,  as  short  for 
the  distance  he  had  to  walk ;  and  on  his  demean- 
or at  the  inn,  wliich  was  quite  collected  and 
unsuspicious,  llien  he  cited  the  danming  facts 
of  quarrel  and  threat ;  and  the  positive  testimony 
of  tlie  man  Brauker,  who  had  seen  the  father 
and  Son    together  near  the  fatal   spot,  and  luid 


HAWKSVIEW.  253 

heard  their  voices  in  contention.  He  said  there 
had  been  an  attempt  made  to  npset  this  man's 
evidence.  His  character  was  against  it ;  but 
what  motive  could  he  have  in  swearing  away  the 
life  of  an  innocent  person?  They  (the  jury) 
must  carefully  sift  the  evidence,  and  convict  or 
acquit  on  what  had  been  brought  before  them 
in  that  place,  without  reference  to  any  Imsup- 
ported  suggestions  that  might  have  been  thrown 
out.  The  conversation  about  the  iron  bar  with 
the  witness  John  Dobbie  was  not  very  important ; 
it  sounded  like  the  bravado  of  a  boy  proud  to 
exhibit  his  strength  to  a  servant  who  had  known 
him  from  childhood  ;  but  the  disappearance  of 
the  bar  was  suspicious — the  jury  must  consider 
where  the  probability  lay.  Had  the  prisoner 
himself  removed  it  from  the  porch  to  a  conve- 
nient hiding-place,  until  such  time  as  he  found  an 
opportunity  to  use  it,  or  had  it  been  carried  away 
by  some  other  person?  If  the  jury  believed  that 
the  prisoner  had  purposely  concealed  the  iron  bar, 
and  then  feigned  to  have  lost  it,  that  would  be  a 
strong  point  against  him ;  but  they  must  remem- 
ber that  it  had  never  been  seen  in  his  possession 
after  he  removed  it  from  the  tool-liouse.  There 
was  another  view  of  this  part  of  the  evidence : 
if  the  prisoner  had  designed  the  bar  for  a  mur- 
derous use,  would  he  have  put  it  in  so  conspic- 


254  HAWK8VIEW. 

uoiis  a  place  as  the  poreli  through  wliich  his 
father  passed  many  tinies  daily  ?  Osythe  Dobbie 
saw  it  there,  and  the  man  Branker  saw  it  there 
when  he  was  laying  down  new  gravel  on  the 
garden  walks,  the  same  day  as  John  Dobbie  said 
the  conversation  between  him  and  the  prisoner 
took  place ;  afterward  it  disappeared,  and  was 
seen  ho  more  until  it  was  found  in  the  wood, 
clotted  with  blood  and  human  hair,  near  the  spot 
where  the  murder  had  been  committed.  This 
part  of  the  evidence  was  weak ;  but  in  support 
of  it  they  had  the  positive  threat  sworn  by  two 
wit^iesses,  "I  will  kill  you  if  you  do  so  and  so," 
and  the  sudden  attack  of  the  prisoner  upon  his 
father,  which  might  have  terminated  in  murder 
then,  but  for  the  interference  of  the  female 
servant  and  her  son.  Within  half  an  hour  of 
this  attack,  if  the  prisoner  were  guilty,  the  mur- 
der must  have  been  accomplished — and  within 
two  hours  and  a  half  after,  he  was  eating  a 
hearty  supper  at  an  inn  nine  miles  ofi",  without 
any  of  those  appearances  of  disorder  and  personal 
distress  which  might  be  expected  to  ensue  on  a 
deadly  struggle,  which  ended  in  a  foul  murder. 
The  jury  must  not,  however,  attach  too  much 
weight  to  unsuspicious  appearances,  for  the  nerve 
and  strength  exhibited  by  great  criminals  in  the 
conccalnient  of  tlu,'ir  crimes,  were  qnalitics  that 


HAWKSVIEW.  255 

enabled  them  to  commit  them.  If  they  believed 
that  the  prisoner  had  deliberately  planned  his 
fatlier's  death,  and  done  the  murder,  as  the  evi- 
dence tended  to  sho^v,  then  they  must  convict 
him ;  but  if  they  had  any  doubts  they  must 
acquit  him.  It  was  better  that  many  guilty 
should  escape  than  one  innocent  man  suffer. 

The  jury  retired  to  consider  their  verdict;  and 
after  being  absent  for  a  considerable  time  they 
sent  for  a  plan  of  the  localities.  When  they 
finally  appeared,  amidst  the  dead  silence  of  the 
court,  their  finding  was  that  the  murder  had  not 
been  proven,  and  they  acquitted  the  prisoner. 
This  verdict  had  not  been  anticipated,  even  by 
Marmaduke  himself,  and  was  received  without 
any  token  of  applause.  The  judge,  after  a  pause, 
said  it  was  the  only  satisfactory  conclusion  they 
could  have  come  to.  He  then  addressed  a  few 
stern  words  to  the  prisoner  on  the  ungoverned 
violence  of  his  temper,  which  had  brought  him 
fo  that  place ;  admonished  him  that  his  sin 
would  yet  find  him  out,  though  hum'an  testimony 
failed,  if  he  were  indeed  guilty  of  the  crime  for 
which  he  had  been  arraigned,  and  then  ordered 
him  to  be  discharged. 

"  My  Lord,  I  am  not  guilty  of  my  father's 
blood,"  replied  Marmaduke,  lifting  his  face  up. 
"  He  had  other  enemies  besides  his  son." 


256  HAWKSVIEW. 

When  he  liad  spoken  he  looked  toward  the 
place  where  Agnes  had  sat  tliroughout  the  trial, 
Lilt  she  liad  disappeared,  and  he  was  sharply 
commanded  by  a  policeman  to  "clear  out  of  that 
and  make  way  for  his  betters."  As  he  went  forth 
from  the  court  the  people  fell  back  and  made  way 
for  him,  gathering  their  garments  closely  about 
them  lest  they  should  be  defiled  by  the  touch  of 
a  murderer,  for  such,  in  spite  of  his  acquittal,  the 
popular  voice  declared  him  to  be.  In  a  few 
minutes  he  found  himself  standing  in  the  winterly 
sunshine  out  of  doors,  dazed,  confused,  yet  with 
an  exultant  sense  of  freedom  swelling  his  heart 
almost  to  bursting.  AVhat  eared  lie  lor  curious 
gaze  and  ostentatious  repulsion  at  his  presence? 
He  never  saw  them  ?  He  had  escajjed  that 
hateful  prison ;  he  had  been  delivered  from  im- 
minent death,  and  restored  to  the  possession  of 
real  existence.  Such  a  whirl  of  thoughts  and 
feelings  swept  over  his  heart  and  brain  as 
could  not  have  risen  out  of  any  other  train  of 
circumstances  in  human  experience.  While  he 
was  standing  thus  (piite  inobservant  of  external 
things,  his  uncle  Loftus  took  his  arm  suddenly 
and  drew  him  away — and  not  a  moment  too  soon. 
The  mob  that  would  have  made  holiday  at  his 
death  liad  he  l»een  convicted,  began  to  gather  at 
liis  heels   with  hiss,  yell,  and  execration.     From 


HAWKSVIEW.  257 

words  they  might  soon  have  passed  to  deeds,  but 
a  hack  cab  dashed  up  to  the  pavement,  Mr. 
Loftns  hustled  his  nephew  in,  and  they  were 
driven  rapidly  off  out  of  sight  and  hearing  of  the 
tumult.  Those  few  moments  of  mob-hatred  and 
scorn  made  a  man's  indignant  and  resentful  heart 
burn  in  Birdyfute's  breast.  He  never  knew  a 
boy's  gay,  exultant  feelings  again.  He  had 
stepped  over  the  threshold  of  life  into  a  world 
that  branded  him  a  murderer,  where  every 
hand  and  every  voice  would  be  raised  against 
him. 

''  England  is  no  home  for  you,  Marmaduke, 
while  the  mystery  of  your  father's  death  is  un- 
cleared up,"  said  Mr.  Loftus,  sadly.  "  You  must 
change  your  name,  and  start  afresh  in  a  new 
world." 

"The  sooner  the  better,"  was  the  proud  and 
sullen  reply.  Mr.  Loftus  looked  in  the  young 
man's  face,  and  saw  his  eyes  glittering ;  he  was 
touched,  and  laid  his  hand  gently  upon  that  Avith 
Avhich  Marmaduke  convulsively  clutched  the  side 
of  the  vehicle. 

"It  is  very  hard,  lad;  but  'tis  your  only 
chance,"  said  he,  with  shaking  voice.  "  My  heart 
warmed  to  you  when  I  first  saw  you ;  but  we 
can't  live  together  now.  You  can't  live  where 
everybody   avoids  you.     You  heard  those  yells 


258  HAWK8VIEW. 

— that's  the  general   feeling   about   the   matter. 
Mrs.  Buhnn  is  persuaded  of  your  innocence  and 
so  am  I ;  but  we  are  only  two  against  the  world." 
No  more  was  said  until  they  reached  the  inn. 
There  Roger  Bohun,  Agnes  and  Eli  Burton  were 
■waiting  to  see  liini,  and  say  a  few  words  of  good- 
bye.    It  was   to  Agnes  he   oould    best   bear  to 
listen  ;  she  drew  him  aside  and  spoke  so  kindly 
and  soothingly,  that  the  evil   spirit  of  anger  was 
obliged  to  keep  silence  before  her.     "  You  will 
leave  us  all,  Birdyfute,  because  it  is  the  best  for 
you,    said   she,  holding   his   hand,    and   peering 
sweetly  into  his  clouded  eyes ;  but  1  know  this 
liand  is  clear  of  blood,-  and  I  look  forward  to  the 
day  when  all  the  Avorld  shall  know  it  too.     Live 
in  hope  of  that  day  that  you  may  come*  back  to 
us,   my  dear — live  as   your  mother  would  have 
wished  you  to  live — remember  always  that  you 
are  a  Christian  and  a  gentleman.     Let  suspicion 
say  what  it  will,  I  shall   not  forget  you.     Never 
hold    back    from  claiming  my  friendship   if  you 
return  to  us,  or  from  seeking  our  counsel  if  it  can 
in  any  measure  help  you."     She  pressed  his  hand 
warmly  and  hurried    away;  and  a  few  minutes 
after  he  saw  her  get  into  SipiireBrough's  carriage 
and  drive  off.     lie  turned   from  the  window  and 
approached   his   uncle,    who   was    selecting  sev- 
eral   bank    notes  fro)n    his    pocket-book.      "  Let 


HAWKSVIKW.  259 

us  eat  together,  uncle,  before  we  separate,"  said 
he.  "  It  is  not  dark  yet ;  when  it  is  I  will  go. 
You  are  right,  England  is  no  longer  a  home 
for  me." 

"  I  will  look  after  Hawksview  for  you  against 
you  come  home.  You  have  an  empty  purse  now  ; 
but  there  are  the  means  of  a  beginning  of  life  for 
you.  You  must  write  to  me  wherever  you  are. 
Gather  up  the  notes.  Is  there  anything  you 
would  like  to  have  done  at  Hawksview  ?" 

Marmaduke  did  so.  "  Yes ;  have  the  cottage 
razed,  the  trees  cut  down,  the  garden  obliterated. 
Blot  the  place  out  of  the  map  of  Astondale ;  it  is 
accursed.  Turn  it  into  a  farm,  or  let  it  run  wild, 
I  care  not.     I  shall  ruever  see  it  again." 

"  Wofild  you  like  to  sell  it  to  Squire  Brough  ?" 

"I  cannot  sell  it.  There  is  a  clause  in  the 
deeds  forbidding  it.  Only,  if  the  Yesceys  were 
extinct,  it  lapses  to  the  crown — it  is  worth  little." 

"  It  is  a  name.  Yescey  of  Hawksview  was 
once  synonymous  with  all  Christian  and  courtly 
virtues." 

"  Once  I  might  have  said  that  so  it  shall  be 
again ;  but  ray  chance  has  passed  from  me,"  re- 
plied Marmaduke,  bitterly. 

When  the  night  fell,  the  uncle  and  nephew 
parted,  Mr.  Loftus  to  return  to  his  solitary  home, 


260  HAWK8VIEW. 

Marmaduke  Yescey  to  float  adrift  upon  the  sea 
of  life,  cast  loose  from  every  auclior  of  youthful 
love  and  youthful  hope. 


iirrt  ilu  MUM. 


HAWKSVIEW.  263 


CHAPTEK  I. 

'Ti8  no  uncommon  thing  for  people  to  exclaim, 
in  desultory  moments,  "  I  wonder  what  we  shall 
all  be  doing  ten  years'  hence  ?"  Ten  years  is  such 
a  long  time  to  look  forward  to ;  but  when  they 
are  gone,  memory  flies  back  to  some  event  beyond 
their  remotest  limit,  and  our  cry  is,  "It  seems 
to  have  happened  only  yesterday !"  Yet,  when 
we  begin  to  take  to  pieces  the  interval,  or  to 
examine  the  changes  that  have  been  working- 
all  around  us,  while  those  ten  years  were  passing 
silently  from  us,  we  perceive  that  the  way  is 
distinctly  marked  ;  and  that  every  individual  day 
has  had  its  mission,  and  fulfilled  it  ill  or  well. 

Even  a  careless  observer  would  have  seen,  that 
during  the  ten  years  which  had  elapsed  since  the 
murder  of  Captain  Yescey  of  Ilawksview — an 
epoch  from  which  the  country  folks  dated  in 
preference  to  any  other — a  great  and  important 
revolution  had  been  wrought  in  the  parish  of 
Boscombe-Magna.      Squire   Brongh's  house    re- 


26-i  HA^VKSVIEW. 

niained  as  of  old;  but  the  ehurcli  had  been  re- 
built in  very  respectable,  ecclesiastical  taste,  and 
the  rectory  had  been  enlarged,  the  pretty  bay- 
windowed  drawing-room,  with  its  outside  verandah 
of  creepers  remained ;  but  there  were  handsome 
apartments  beyond,  which  better  accommodated 
themselves  to  the  present  rector's  family.  Tiiere 
M-as  a  total  transfofuiation  at  Moat ;  and  Wha'd- 
ha'-thowt-it?  had  disappeared  from  the  face  of 
the  earth.  The  former  village  was  represented  by 
two  straight  rows  of  model  cottages,  with  gardens 
in  front  and  rear;  a  new  school-house,  and  a 
mutual  improvement  society's  room  and  library, 
over  which  Miss  Sage  Booty  held  only  a  nominal 
presidency.  The  ale-house  was  there  still ;  but 
it  looked  the  least  thriving  concern  in  the  place, 
and  the  landlord  might  have  been  obliged  to  shut 
it  up  long  since,  probably,  but  for  the  proiits  of 
his  little  farm  and  market-garden. 

These  changes  had  been  wrought  under  the 
influences  of  the  new  rector,  the  Honorable  and 
Reverend  Roarer  Bohun.  The  Reverend  An- 
gustus  Blaydes  had  been  apoplectically  gathered 
to  liis  fathers  at  his  villa  near  Florence ;  and 
the  bishop  of  the  diocese  immediately  presented 
the  living  to  the  hard-working  curate,  who  had 
now  lived  in  the  parish  altogether  nineteen  years. 
Besides  being  rector  of  Boscombc,  he   was  also 


HAWKSVIliW.  265 

canon  residentary  of  Borehara-cum-Minster,  whero 
be  went  for  three  months  annually,  and  which 
made  a  handsome  addition  to  his  income.  The 
head  of  the  noble  house  of  Bohun  bad  also 
restored  its  customary  allowance  to  the  youngest 
son ;  and  submitted  to  a  reconciliation  under 
stress  of  circumstances,  and  a  longing  desire  to 
behold  the  only  grandsons  it  had  pleased  provi- 
dence to  vouchsafe  to  his  prayers — Tristan,  Harry, 
and  Louis. 

Tristan  had  just  joined  his  regiment  as  ensign  ; 
Harry  had  been  afloat  nearly  a  year  in  the 
Queen's  service;  and  Louis,  called,  from  his 
exceeding  gravity  and  solidity  of  deportment, 
"The  Archbishop,"  was  preparing  for  college 
at  Borehara-cum-Minster.  Mistress  Mona  had 
just  reached  her  twentieth  birth-day,  unwedded 
and  unwooed  —  a  circumstance  which  puzzled 
Agnes  exceedingly,  for  Mona  was  ver}?  beautiful, 
very  spirited,  very  amiable ;  and  her  mother  never 
forgot  that  before  she  was  twenty  her  two  eldest 
children  were  born.  Mona  had  cousins  married, 
not  half  so  charming  as  herself,  who  would  some- 
times ask  her  if  she  meant  to  die  an  old  maid ; 
though  anything  less  suggestive  of  that  chilly 
idea  than  her  bright  and  blooming  face,  could  not 
possibly  be  conceived.  "  Die  an  old  maid  ?  Cer- 
tainly not,"  she  used  to  reply,  with  an  arch  laugh. 
12 


2(56  IIAWKSVIEW, 

"It  is  mj  impression  that  I  am  saving  np  for 
somebody  nice,  and  I  shall  abide  in  })atience  until 
he  finds  me  out.  I  should  not  like  at  all  to 
Bueceed  Miss  Sage  Booty,  though  she  is  a  dear 
old  soul,  because  I  can  see  with  my  eyes,  and  feel 
with  my  heart,  how  much  happier  my  mamma  is." 
Such  were  Mistress  Mona's  views  on  th6  great 
matrimonial  theory.  She  was  ver}-^  candid,  and 
allowed  to  all  her  young  female  relatives  that 
she  had  never  enjoyed  the  sublime  triumph  of 
refusing  an  offer,  because  no  gentleman  had  ever 
proposed  to  her.  They  rather  despised  her  for 
this ;  but  Hatty  Lennox,  who  was  good-natured, 
and  sharp-witted,  though  she  adored  admiration, 
averred  that  it  was  not  and  could  not  be,  true — 
somebody  must  have  fallen  in  love  with  her,  yes, 
9ver  and  OA'cr  again  !  Mona  looked  guilty,  and 
repeated  her  first  asservation,  whereupon  Hatty, 
with  an  acuteness  that  would  have  done  credit  to 
a  detective,  exclaimed,  "  You  have  never  had  to 
say  '  No,'  because  you  can  a<it  '  No '  in  such  a 
^ay  that  no  man,  who  is  not  a  blind  bat  could 
mistake  you  ;  and  no  man  who  is  not  an  infatuated 
goose  would  plunge  head  over  heels  into  certain 
refusal.  I  know  ever  so  numy  pe()])le  who  like 
you,  and  who  would  do  more  if  you  would  let 
them ;  but,  I  suppose,  you  don't  think  flirting  an 
innocent  amusement." 


HAWKSVIEW.  2tJ7 

"Well,  think  I  can't  see  that  next  to  the 
pleasure  of  saying  '  Yes,'  must  be  the  ecstasy  of 
saying  '  No' "  remarked  a  yoimg  nn-come-out 
cousin,  a  born  coquette,  and  a  budding  beauty 
of  great  promise.  She  was  Lady  Alicia  Bohun's 
daughter. 

Mona  did  not  think  anything  about  flirting ; 
she  never  flirted,  and  everybody  liked  her.  Tris- 
tan, Harry,  and  Louis  agreed  unanimously  upon 
one  point — none  of  their  girl  cousins  were  to  be 
compared  to  their  sister  Mona.  Look  how  beauti- 
ful she  was  ;  and  when  did  anybody  ever  see  her 
cross  ?  She  was  as  generous  as  July  sunsliine, 
and  clever ! — why,  she  knew  everything.  The 
boys  might  well  say  so.  Who  was  it  elucidated 
early  lessons?  Who  was  it  smoothed  fraternal 
squabbles?  Who  w^as  it  that  had  a  ready  and 
deft  pair  of  hands  when  they  were  as  helpless  as 
kittens  ?  "  Bless  her  !"  as  midshipman  Harry 
said,  "  she's  a  clipper  of  a  sister !" 

Agnes  loved  her  daughter  fondly.  Grievous, 
most  grievous  would  a  separation  have  been  to 
her ;  but  the  maternal  pride  was  rather  hurt  at 
seeing  so  much  beauty,  grace,  and  pleasantness 
unsought,  and  apparently  unappreciated.  She 
would  have  liked  to  see  Mona  worthily  courted 
and  worthily  won  ;  but  once  or  twice,  when  she 
had  detected  suspicious  symptoms  in  any  guest. 


208  IIANYKSVIKW. 

and  had  let  her  own  countenance  shine  thereupon, 
the  jonng  maiden  had  become  frigid  as  a  polar 
winter,  until  these  tender  germs  were  effectually 
nipped  and  killed,  when  the  £i-ostiness  thawed 
gradually  into  a  sisterly  amity.  So  it  came  to 
pass  that  Mona  had  many  devoted  friends,  but 
no  lover ;  for  she  never  mortified  any  man,  and 
never  encouraged  one  either. 

Agnes  once  whispered  a  little  complaint  to 
Hoger,  when  a  promising  bloom  had  been  prema- 
turely pinched  oflf ;  but  the  Rector  laughed,  and 
said  he  was  glad  Mona  was  in  no  haste  to  leave 
home,  for  when  she  went,  he  must  have  a  8econ.d 
curate.  I  know  not  whether  she  was  accessory 
to  the  translation  of  two  gentlemen  wlio  had 
served  the  church  and  her  father  in  that  capacity, 
but  Miss  Sage  Bootic,  whose  bosom  in  her  later 
years  opened  to  clerical  woes,  gave  her  credit  for 
it ;  but  we  have  Mona's  word  that  she  had  never 
received  an  offer,  therefore  she  could  not  have 
bliglitcd  the  curates,  and  probably  somebody  else 
,wa8  responsible  for  tliat  iniquity. 

Mona  had  reached  the  mature  age  of  twenty 
without  having  experienced  one  pang  of  the  ten- 
der passion,  or  even  having  fancied  herself  in  the 
least  touched  tliereby.  Perhaps  she  was  rather 
cold ;  perhaps  she  was  ratlier  scornful,  or  proud, 
or  indifferent,  or  bad  to  please;  perhaps  slie  had 


IIAWKSVIEW.  2G9 

not  had  opportunities;  or  again,  as  she  herself 
suggested,  perhaps  she  was  saving  for  somebody 
nice,  who  liad  yet  not  turned  up. 

Let  us  then  leave  the  conjectural, ^nd  regard 
the  actual  Mistress  Mona  Bf^liun,  the  sunshine 
of  Boscombe  Rectory,  the  prettiest  and  pleasantest 
young  woman  in  the  parish,  godmother  to  many 
babies,  school-examiner,  church-organist,  and 
choir-leader,  papa's  amanuensis,  mamma's  spec- 
tacles, brother's  pride,  and  everybody's  favorite 
— Mistress  Mona"  Bohun,  sitting  at  the  writing- 
table  of  the  old  drawing  room,  with  intent  face 
bent  over  her  desk,  making  a  fair,  legible  copy 
from  several  sheets  of  blotted  manuscript  that  lie 
strewn  at  her  left-hand — the  manuscript  of  that 
now  well-known  work,  "  Bohun's  History  of  the 
Christian  World."  Now,  a  truly  beautiful  woman 
is  a  rarity.  The  sex  are  generaly  best  described 
as  iiretty,  handsome,  interesting,  pleasing,  ordin- 
ary, or  very  plain  ;  but  a  woman  whom  every- 
body agrees  to  pronounce  heautiful,  is — I  repeat 
it  emphatically — a  rarity.  Such  a  woman  was 
Mistress  Mona  Bohun. 

There  was  plenty  of  sunshine  in  the  room ;  but 
where  she  sat,  was  shade.  The  clear,  perfect 
outline  of  her  face  was  not  hidden,  nor  yet  hardly 
exposed,  by  any  fantastic  arrangement  of  her  hair, 
which,  rippled  by  a  natural  wave,  dark  or  golden 


270  nAWKsviF.w. 

as  the  light  caught  it,  was  rolled  back  in  loose 
braids,  and  knotted  low  on  her  neck.  There  was 
a  cool  morning  bloom  npon  her  cheek,  a  subdued 
lustre  in  Iftr  large  pure  violet  blue  eyes,  a 
maidenly  candor  9(\  the  tender  rose  of  her  lips. 
She  was  tall,  but  not  too  tall ;  slight  and  shapely, 
gcaceful  in  repose,  agile  and  swift  in  action — a 
woman,  pure  and  siwiple,  not  a  suspicion  of  the 
ffoddess  about  her. 

This  description  is  miserably  inadequate,  but  it 
must  pass.  Let  the  reader  vivify  it  with  his  own 
ideal — he  can  conceive  of  nothing  more  lovely, 
nothing  more  loveable,  than  Mona  Boliun,    , 

If,  iuiitead  of  being  a  comfortable  church  digni- 
tan'.  her  father  had  continued  a  poor  curate,  she 
would  have  kneaded  the  household  bread,  brushed 
the  carpets,  mended  the  family  stockings,  made 
her  brother's  shirts,  and  thrown  all  her  young 
energies  into  her  work,  without  ever  proposing  to 
herself  a  discontented  thought ;  but  fortune  had 
raised  her  above  the  contemplation  of  daily  needs, 
aiid  up  to  this  date,  sickness  and  sorrow  had 
passed  her  by,  as  something  charmed  against  their 
miiversal  touch. 

The  task  now  before  her  was  one  tliat  would 
occupy  her  full  three  hours,  and  she  applied 
her:5elfto  it,  with  the  matter-of-fact  diligence  of  a 
copying  clerk.     The  long   slender  white  fingers 


HAWKSVTEW.  271 

moved  at  even  pace  along  the  lines.  JSTever  a 
blot,  rarely  an  erasure,  still  more  rarely  an  omis- 
sion. It  was  manuscript  that  a  compositor  would 
delight  to  put  in  type.  When  she  was  about 
midway  at  her  work,  Agnes  came  in  and  looked 
over  her  for  a  little  while,  resting  one  of  her  fair 
hands  on  the  girl's  shoulder. 

"  It  does  not  tire  your  eyes,  Mona !  Pray,  write 
no  more  at  a  time  than  papa  asks,"  said  she,  with 
maternal  anxiousness. 

"No,  mamma."  Mona  turned  her  rosy  lips 
and  touched  her  mother's  hand.  'Twas  a  slight 
action  ;  but  it  spoke  her  caressing  natiire, 
and  showed  how  perfect  was  the  love  that  sub- 
sisted between  them.  Agnes  still  lingered,  and 
presently  Mona  looked  up  at  her. 

Anj'thing  the  matter,  mamma?"  she  askedj 
"Any  more  news  of  Tristan.  Ah!  there  is,  there  is!" 

"  Yes,  love.  His  regiment  is  ordered  to  the 
East.  We  expected  it,  you  know.  Immediately 
too ;  and  j^our  grandpapa  wants  us  to  go  to  Castle 
Bohun  to  see  him,  as  he  will  not  get  more  than 
three  or  four  days  leave." 

"It  does  not  trouble  jon,  mamma;  does  it? 
Tristan  will  be  overjoyed,"  said  Mona,  rising  and 
putting  her  arm  round  hermother's  waist,  and  kiss- 
ing her  when  she  saw  a  tearful  dimness  cloud  her 
eyes. 


272  HAWKSVIEW. 

"It  ouglit  not  to  trouble  me,  Mona.  Tliere, 
there,  wo  must  not  be  foolish.  Finish  your 
writing,  and  then  come  to  me."  Agnes  extricated 
herself,  and  put  her  daughter  oif  with  a  smile, 
and  then  Mona  resumed  her  pen. 

By  twelve  o'clock  the  sheets  were  filled,  and 
gathering  them  together,  she  carried  them  to  the 
study,  singing  one  of  Jier  favorite  spirited  songs 
that  set  the  heart  beatinof  fast  to  hear  it.  Agnes 
felt  her  imagination  fired  by  it,  as  she  listened 
with  brighter  hopes  for  her  soldier  son.  Mona 
knew  the  cheering  efiect  it  would  have,  and  con- 
tinued it  until  she  was  seated  in  the  drawing  room 
with  her  brother's  letter  in  her  hand  ;  and  even 
then,  she  went  on,  though  rather  more  softly  : 

"March,  inarch,  Ettrick  and  Teviotdale  ; 

Why  my  lads,  dinna  yo  march  forward  in  order? 
March,  march,  Eskdale  and  Liddesdale, 

All  the  blue  bonnets  are  over  the  border. 

Many  a  banner  spread,  flutters  above  your  head, 

Many  a  crest  tiiat  is  famous  in  story  ^ 
Mount  and  make  ready,  then,  sous  of  the  mountain  glen, 

Figlit  for  the  Queen,  and  the  old  Scottish  glory." 

"We  shall  go  into  Kent,  mamma,  shall  we 
not?"phe  asked,  bringing  her  reading  and  her 
Bong  to  an  end  at  the  Haine  moment. 

"Papa*lias  not  seen  the  letter  yet;  we  must 
licar  what  he  says.  I  should  liave  liked  Tristan 
here,  all  to  ourselves,"  re})lied  Agnes. 


IIAWKSVIEW.  273 

"  Yes,  mamma ;  but  half  the  time  of  liis  leave 
would  be  spent  on  the  road  coming  and  going. 
Grandpapa  would  be  so  disappointed  too,  if  he 
did  not  pay  him  a  visit.  Then  if  we  go  into  the 
south  we  may  see  him  embark.  Mamma,  speak 
for  our  going." 

"  Leave  me  to  think  it  over,  and  go  to  the  Moat 
House,  dear  ;  Miss  Sage  Booty  will  want  to  hear 
all  the  news.  You  might  carry  the  letter  with 
you  ;  but  brin^  it  back.  Papa  will  not  be  home 
from  Boothe  till  evening,  too  late  for  to-day's 
post ;  but  I  will  write  to  Tristan  a  line  now,  or 
he  will  be  put  out.  To-morrow  we  will  decide — 
I  think  it  will  be  best  to  go." 

"Yes,  mamma,  I'm  sure  it  will.  Mammie 
(Miss  Sage  Booty)  will  miss  him,  and  that  is  a 
pity.  I  must  comfort  her  with  visions  of  glory. 
Darling,  you  are  not  to  fret.  It  will  do  Tristan 
good  to  see  some  lighting — you  are  not  to  think 
of  wooden  legs  and  empty  sleeves,  but  of  stars 
and  garters.  Mamma,  I  don't  like  to  see  you  so 
sad."  Mona  patted  her  mother's  hand  fondly  ; 
but  there  was  a  mist  in  her  own  eyes  too; 

"  I  shall  cheer  up  by  and  bye — now  do  run 
away  and  let  me  write  my  letter."  Thus  impera- 
tivel}'-  admonished,  she  only  lingered  one  more 
minute  to  press  another  longer  and  tenderer  kiss 
on  her  mother's  cheek,  and  then  took  herself  off. 
12* 


274:  UAWKSVIEW. 

Miss  Sage  Booty  was  over  licad  and  ears  in 
business  vrhcn  Mona  arrived  at  the  old  Moat 
House,  and  communicated  her  intelligence. 

"Every  tiling  comes  at  once,  I  do  thinlc !" 
^ricd  she,  leaving  a  pestle  and  mortar,  with 
wliich  she  had  pounded  herself  into  a  high  fever, 
and  dropping  wearily  upon  the  sofa.  "Tristan 
is  going  out  to  the  Crimea.  Of  course,  that  is 
he  luck  /  bring  him.  If  he  had  been  anyone 
else's  godson,  he  might  have  walked  calmly  up 
the  ladder  of  promotion,  without  ever  getting 
witliin  eyeshot  of  an  enemy." 

"  But  that  would  not  have  suited  Tristan  ;  we 
must  have  one  bit  of  glory  amongst  us." 

"Glory,  stuff!  Piper,  please  to  go  on  pound- 
ing that  mixture.  I  must  tell  you,  Mona,  my 
dear,  I  was  in  distress  before  you  came,  and 
little  needed  this  news  about  my  boy.  '  When 
sorrows  come,  tliey  come  not  single  spies,  but 
whole  battalions.'  Yes,  Mona,  t])at  they  do; 
Solomon  must  have  been  in  his  wisest  mood 
when  he  said  that.  Solomon — let  me  see,  was  it 
Solomoir  or  Sliakspoare — Fm  sure  I  forget  which  ; 
I  must  be  faking  leave  of  my  memory.  I've 
lost  my  best  patient  in  all  Moat-«-old  Jerry 
Frouston's  gone ;  such  a  mild,  guidable  old  man, 
and  faithful  to  the  last  to  Globb — tliat  excellent 
ppecific,  my  dear,  to  which  your  mother  has  such 


HAWKSVIEW,  275 

an  unaccountable  antipathy.  Piper  reckons  that, 
during  the  three  and  twenty  years  that  he  has 
taken  it,  he  must  have  swallowed  as  much  as  one 
thousand  seven  hundred  and  ninety-seven  bottles, 
or  a  bottle  and  a  half  a  week. 

"  What  an  enormous  quantity !  And  did  it 
never  cure  him  ?"  asked  Mona,  innocently. 

"  Cure  him !  my  dear ;  there  was  nothing  the 
matter  with  him  but  wickedness  and  bad  temper, 
but  he's  gone  now." 

"  He  cost  my  mistress  in  the  specific,  two 
hundred  and  twenty-four  pounds,  twelve  shillings 
and  sixpence,  for  it  was  half-a-crown  the  bottle ;" 
interposed  Piper,  desisting  from  her  pounding, 
and  clasping  her  wrist  tenderly  ;  "  I  say,  'tis  ex- 
travagant in  a  poor  man  to  drink  so  much  physic 
— a  bottle  a  year's  enough." 

"  It  did  not  come  out  of  your  pocket.  Mistress 
Piper,"  retorted  her  patroness,  sharply ;  "  and 
did  not  he  always  say  that  his  stomach  felt  to 
want  it.  Did  he  not  tell  me  it  was  like  a  warm 
lining  to  him  ?  S]:)eak  respectfully  of  him,  now 
he's  departed,  if  you  please." 

Piper  looked  highly  scornful,  but  tightened 
her  lips  and  held  her  peace,  while  Miss  Sage 
Booty  went  on.  "  But  I  have  not  yet  got  to  the 
end  of  my  chapter  of  troubles;  that  fellow, 
Branker,  has  contrived  to  catch  his  own  hand  in 


/ 


27«>  HAWKSVIliW. 

a  fox-trap,  and  smash  it  horribly — Drake  wants 
to  take  it  off,  but  he  won't  submit — and  just  at 
this  crisis  to  think  that  I  should  be  out  of  Globb. 
I  don't  know  wlien  such  a  thing  has  happened 
to  me  before.  Piper,  do  go  on  pounding !  We 
arc  trying  to  make  a  substitute  for  it  until  the 
next  case  comes  down  from  London.  I  believe  I 
have  found  out  the  receipt  all  but  one  ingredient." 

"  That  will  be  a  great  saving  of  expense,  I 
should  think,"  suggested  Mona. 

"  O!  dear,  no,  Miss  Mona,  that  it  won't,"  cried 
Piper,  defiantly.  "  Xothing  will  my  mistress 
have  used  but  the  very  best  French  brandy." 

"Do  you  suppose  I  want  to  poison  people?" 
•said  Miss  Sage  Booty.  "  Would  I  condescend  to 
offer  distilled  turnips  and  potatoes?  Far  be  it 
from  me  to  use  such  impositions.  That  is  the 
specific,  Mona.  Medicines  are  always  made  with 
pestle  and  mortar.  I  wish  you  would  taste  it, 
dear,  and  tell  me  if  you  think  it  is  right."  Mona 
begged  to  decline,  on  the  plea  that  she  had  to 
walk  home,  and  she  was  afraid  of  her  head. 

"  Oh  !  there  is  nothing  to  hurt  you  in  it.  It  is 
only  caraway  seeds  and  cognac.  I  wonder  what 
else  Globb  uses."  Mona  suggested  ♦water,  and 
Piper  seized  on  the  parsimonious  idea  with  avid- 
ity. "Water  it  is,"  cried  she.  "Water,  and 
nothing  else,  unless  it  bo  treacle." 


\ 


HAWK8VIEW.  277 

"I  don't  think  our  attempt  to  counterfeit  it  is 
lawful,  so  I  shall  only  dispense  a  little  of  this  to 
Branker,  to  keep  him  from  sinking ;  but  I  will 
write  to-day,  and  order  a  whole  case  of  a  dozen 
quart  bottles  to  be  sent  to  Tristan.  He  may  find 
it  a  real  comfort." 

"I  think  Tristan  would  prefer  your  Globb, 
Mammie,"  said  Mona,  laughing.  "  He  hates  any 
thing  with  the  name  of  medicine." 

"  "Well,  then,  I'll  send  him  some  of  that  golden 
brandy  that  my  poor  nephew  Augustus  brought 
over  the  last  time  he  came  to  see  me.  He  must 
take  it  to  keep  out  the  cold.  Poor,  dear  boy ! 
And  where  is  he  going  ?  Mona,  I  wish  you  could 
think  of  something  else  for  me  to  give  him.  Does 
he  want  a  horse?  Piper,  pack  me  a  box,  and  PU 
go  to  Canterbury  to  see  him  myself,  and  find  out 
what  he  wants." 

"  I  don't  think  he  wants  any  thing,  Mammie, 
you  have  been  so  generous  to  him  already." 

"  You  are  like  your  mother,  my  dear ;  she 
always  liked  to  keep  him  short  of  hats  and  coats 
when  he  was  a  baby.  I  insist  upon  his  wanfing 
something.  I  know,  from  Augustus  Bladyes,  that 
he  must  want  many  things.  Augustus  always 
did.  I  look  upon  him  as  my  eldest  son.  Pve 
left  him  all  my  property  in  my  will.  Why  can- 
not I  be  allowed  to  indulge  him  in  my  lifetime?" 


278  UAWKSVIEW. 

Miss  Sage  Booty  looked  liiglily  affronted,  as  if 
she  suspected  Tiistan's  family  of  conspiring  to 
defraud  liim  of  the  benefits  that  slie  thirsted  to 
bestow.  She  was  a  generous  crotcliety  old  soul, 
and  her  love  for  her  god-child  had  develoi)cd  her 
best  points. 

Mona  soon  smoothed  down  her  ruffled  quills, 
and  brought  her  round  to  a  state  of  amiable  com- 
posure, in  which  she  left  her,  pounding  the 
caraway  seeds  and  cognac,  whicli  Piper  had 
triumjjTiantly  drowned  in  a  copious  infusion  of 
spring  water.  Branker  would  have  a  much  better 
chance  of  successfully  combating  his  inflammatory 
symptoms  if  dosed  with  this  amateur  specific,  than 
he  would  have  done  if  the  original  Globb  hud 
been  exhibited  in  his  case. 

As  Mona  went  through  tlic  vilage  of  Moat,  she 
saw  Dr.  Drake's  gig  standing  at  the  injured  man's 
cottage  door,  and  was  told  by  a  woman  who  came 
out  that  he  had  consented  at  last  to  allow  his  hand 
to  be  taken  off,  which  would  make  him  a  crip])le 
for  lije.  It  was  his  right  hand ;  and  how  he  was 
curbing  and  swearing  with  the  pain.  The  girl 
hurried  by  the  house,  for  she  could  hear  the 
hoarse,  screaming  voice,  which  sounded  like  that 
of  a  delirious  person,  and  all  her  nature  recoiled 
from  tlic  repulsive  and  brutal  character  of  thin 
man. 


HAWKSVIEW.  279 

When  she  reached  home,  she  found  her  mother 
calm  again.  Her  letter  to  Tristan  was  written  ; 
and  her  mind  had  stayed  itself  upon  the  promise 
of  God,  "  As  thy  day  is,  so  shall  thy  strength  be. 
The  eternal  God  is  thy  refuge,  and  underneath 
are  the  everlasting  arms." 


2js0  hawks  view. 


CHAPTER  IL 

Roger  Boiicn  had  got  back  from  Bootlie,  and 
promptly  settled  that  they  should  all  go  to  Castle 
Bohun  on  the  following  Monday  and  regulate 
their  after-niovemcnts  by  Tristan's.  If  his  regi- 
men* sailed  from  Portsmouth  to  Portsmouth  they 
would  follow;  or  if  from  Dover  to  Dover  they 
would  go. 

"  I  hope  our  ghostly  protectress  will  acccompany 
him  with  her  invisible  shield,"  said  Mona.  The 
rector  looked  very  grave  for  a  moment  or  two, 
then  smiled  cheerfully  at  his  wife,  and  began  to 
talk  of  something  else. 

Dinner  was  just  over,  and  they  were  grouped 
cozily  round  the  fireside  when  a  servant  etitered 
hastily,  and  said  that  a  messenger  had  come  from 
Moat  to  beg  the  rector  to  go  over  immc^diately  to 
Branker's;  he  was  almost  mad  to  see  him,  and 
he  could  not  live  over  the  night.  Roger  Bohun 
never  sent  his  young  curate  on  such  an  oflice  as 
this,  or  there  would  have  been  temptation  enough 


IIAWKSVIEW.  281 

to  do  so  now,  for  the  night  had  closed  in  wet  and 
cold,  and  he  was  already  tired  with  his  long  ride 
to  and  from  Boothe.  Mona  made  him  wear  a 
plaid  over  his  coat,  and  dismissed  him  with  a  kiss, 
and  a  promise  that  tea  should  be  all  ready  for 
him  on  his  return. 

"O  mamma,  these  must  be  trying  scenes  for 
papa !"  said  she,  standing  with  reflective  face 
before  the  fire  when  he  was  gone.  "What  can 
he  say  to  Branker?  They  seem  to  send  for  the 
clergymen  as  if  he  could  save  them  when  they 
are  dying — these  bad  men.  Do  you  think  it  is 
true  that  he  did  murder  that  gamekeeper,  as 
Osythe  Dobbie  says  ?  He  has  an  awful  counte- 
nance ;  1  was  always  afraid  to  look  at  him.  Is 
hell  what  such  as  he  fear ,  I  wonder  ?  Is  it  for 
such  as  he  it  is  prepared  ?" 

"  Mona,  the  Bible  nowhere  says  that  hell  was 
jyi'cpareclt  for  man,"  replied  Agnes,  seriously. 
"  Tliere  are  fearful  punishments  denounced 
against  the  M'icked  which  I  cannot  explain,  and 
which  I  dare  not  explain  away ;  but  we  must 
prepare  them  for  ourselves — we  must  reap  what 
we  sow.  Let  us  hope  that  this  man  may  have  a 
longer  day  given  him  to  repent  of  his  guilt,  if 
there  is,  indeed,  blood  on  his  right  hand." 

Once  out  upon  the  road,  the  rector,  with  his 
liat  pressed  down  firmly  upon  his  brows,  walked 


2  82  HAWKSVIEW. 

rapidly  forward.  Tlie  rain  came  down  slantwise 
full  in  Ills  face,  sliarji  and  stinging  almost  as  liail. 
It  was  a  dai-k  niglit ;  and  but  that  he  knew  every 
foot  of  the  ground  he  had  to  traverse,  every  soft, 
boggy  place,  every-decply-broken  rut,  and  every 
obstructive  heap  of  stones  flung  down  at  random 
in  the  choice  Astondale  method  of  mending  the 
roads,  he  would  scarcely  eveihave  got  to  Moat  at 
all.  On  reachincr  the  cottage  where  Branker 
lived  he  found  a  group  of  idle  people,  notwith- 
standing the  inclement  weather,  crowding  round 
the  door,  and  when  lie  entered  he  saw,  to  his 
astonishment,  Miss  Sage  Booty  sitting  at  tlie 
bed  side,  writing  from  Branker's  dictation.  She 
looked  very  sick,  and  struggled  to  look  dignified, 
but  it  would  not  do.  Tlie  moment  the  rector 
apjieared  she  dropped  the  pen,  and  said,  "  Here, 
Mr.  Bohun,  'tis  Branker's  confession,  you  must 
fiiii-h  it,  for  I  cannot  bear  this  any  longc^,  I  can't 
indeed  !" 

Dr.  Drake  was  leaning  against  the  chimney- 
piece,  regarding  the  clammy  visage  of  the  dying 
man  with  disgust.  Branker  himself  seemed  only 
intent  on  getting  his  task  over,  lest  he  should 
leave  it  incomplL'te.  lie  was  a  i)owerfully  built 
num.  but  liis  flesh  was  wasted  from  hiui.  and  his 
j)re8ent  ai»i>earance  was  revolting  in  the  extreme, 
for  an   expression  f»f  p;iin   contorted  his  mouth 


Ji 


HAWKSVIEW.  283 

into  a  sardonic  grin.  He  followed  Miss  Sage 
Booty's  retreating  fignre  with  eyes  that  moved 
in  a  stiff  ghastly  way,  like  the  eyes  of  an  autom- 
aton, until  she  passed  through  the  doorway,  and 
then  he  turned  them  on  Eoger. 

"  Branker  was  detailing  the  murder  of  Lord 
Foulis's  gamekeepeer  when  you  came  in,  Mr. 
Bohun,"  said  Dr.  Drake,  abruptly. 

"  Yes — and  when  I  had  made  sure  he  was 
dead  I  flung  him  into  the  pit-hole.  There  had 
been  rain,  and  it  was  well-nigh  full  of  water. 
Write  that  down,  parson,"  said  the  ruffian. 
"This  hand  that  the  doctor  cut  off  this  morning 
was  the  hand  that  done  it.  What  says  the  scrip- 
ture ?  '  If  thy  right  hand  offend  thee,  cut  it  off 
and  cast  it  from  thee '  " 

The  rector  checked  his  blasphemous  use  of  holy 
writ  with  an  imperative  gesture.  "Go  on  with 
your  coafession,"  said  he,  seating  himself  in  the 
place  which  Miss  Sage  Booty  had*  vacated. 
Branker  took  a  silent  fit  which  lasted  a  con- 
siderable time. 

"  Have  you  anything  more  to  say.  If  you  have, 
let  it  be  said  quickly,"  urged  Dr.  Drake,  who 
was  impatient  to  be  gone  from  a  scene  where  he 
could  do  no  good.  "  You  killed  Robin,  and  that 
we  all  knew  before  you  made  a  virtue  of  confess- 


28i  HAWKSVIEW. 

"I  may  live  ;  I  may  get  better  yet,"  muttered 
the  man.  "  1  dDii't  feel  like  dying.  "What  should 
1  put  my  neck  in  the  halter  fur  ?'' 

''There'8  another  murder  on  his  conscience," 
whispered  the  surgeon.  lie  was  tried  and  ac- 
quitted for  the  gamekeeper,  you  know.'' 

The  rector  nodiled,  and  signed  the  other  to  be 
silent.  lie  was  intently  watching  Branker's 
countenance,  and  the  inaudible  murmurs  of  his 
purple  lips.  There  was  a  swealing  tallow  candle  in 
the  rooni,  which  threw  an  unsteady  flare  upon  the 
bed  and  its  occupant.  First  one,  and  then  another 
of  the  curious  folks  outside,  bpening  the  door  a 
few  inches  to  see  what  was  going  ou  within,  the 
flame  wavered  in  the  current  of  air,  and  at  last, 
in  a  stronger  gust  than  usual,  it  was  blown  out 
altogether.  In  the  sudden  darkness  that  ensued, 
Ih-anker  sprang  up  with  a  wild  yell  of  terror. 
"Not  yet,  not  yet;  I'll  coniess  the  other!" 
shrieked  he.  "  Parson,  hi  me  feel  your  hand." 
Some  of  the  women  who  lieard  the  cr}'  ran  home 
stopping  their  ears,  and  declaring  that  the  devil 
had  passed  into  the  house  and  claimed  his  own. 
l>y  dint  of  talking  it  over  afterward,  they  per- 
suaded themselves  that  they  had  actually  seen 
liim  ill  the  shape  of  a  winged  l)east. 

There  were  a  few  half-burnt  sticks  on  the 
hearth,  and  Dr.  Drake  quickly   blew  them  uito 


UAWKSviiiw.  285 

a  flame.  Having  relit  the  candle,  he  took  the 
precaution  of  fastening  the  door  to  avoid  a  re- 
])etition  of  the  accident,  when  the  more  daringly 
inquisitive  applied  themselves  to  watch  through 
the  uncurtained  window. 

"  Branker,  that  fearful  cry  of  yours  told  us  that 
there  is  yet  another  secret  crime  on  your  unhappy 
soul,"  said  Roger  Bohun,  solemnly.  "  Speak ; 
purge  your  conscience  by  full  confession,  and 
then  seek  your  peace  at  God's  hands,  if  haply  you 
may  find  it." 

The  miserable  man  still  showed  a  strange  re- 
luctance. A  mortal  horror  had  got  possession  of 
him  ;  the  bed  under  him  shook  with  his  convul- 
sive trembling ;  his  lips  moved  fast ;  his  face  was 
beaded  with  sweat. 

"He  has  been  a  bad  man ;  he  dies  very  hard," 
said  Dr.  Drake.  "  Can  you  make  anything  out 
of  this  silent  gibbering  ?" 

A  vivid  flash  of  recollection  streamed  into  the 
rector's  mind.  He  paused  a  moment,  as  if  in 
horror  at  the  picture  thus  suddenly  presented  to 
him,  and  then  pointing  at  the  writhing,  cowering 
figure  on  the  bed,  exclaimed,  "  Captain  Vescey 
waB  murdered  in  Hawksvicw-woud  ten  years  ago 
— surely  this  is  the  man  that  did  the  deed  !" 

Branker  heard  the  words,  and  understood 
the  oresture.     He  tried  to  drag  the  coverlid  over 


2S6  UAWKSVIEW. 

his  face,  then  cast  it  ofl',  utkI  cried,  with  cowardly 
bravado,  "As  well  die  game !  I  killed  the 
Captain  that  his  son  was  tried  for.  I  was  lying 
in  wait  with  the  iron  bar  when  the  lad  passed  me 
in  the  wood,  and  so  I  thonght  to  put  it  upon 
him.  You're  witness,  parson,  and  you,  too.  Dr. 
Drake,  that  what  I  say  is  true.  Set  it  down 
on  the  paper  with  the  other,  and  Til  sign  my 
name  to  it." 

lioger  Bohun  complied,  and  they  held  the 
sheet  of  coarse  paper  on  a  book,  while  the  dying 
man,  with  his  left  hand,  scraMled  an  almost 
illegible  signature,  to  Avhich  the  rector  and  the 
surgeon  added  theirs.  This  was  Branker's  last 
act.  lie  ])reserved  his  consciousness  to  the  last ; 
but  the  guilty  soul  quitted  not  the  body  in  whicii 
it  had  sinned  without  an  awful  struggle.  Drop 
we  the  veil  over  that  terrible  scene  tlirough 
which  he  passed  into  the  presence  of  God. 

When  the  rector  came  out  from  it  he  was  faint, 
and  staggering  like  a  drunken  man ;  and  all  he 
could  say,  when  he  rejoined  his  woniaiddnd  at 
home,  was,  "I  have  heard  that  to-night  whicli 
clears  Marmaduke  Vescey  from  all  suspicion  of 
his  father's  death.  John  Branker  was  a  double 
murderer." 


IlAWlvSMLW.  287 


CHAPTER  III. 

For  many  months  after  the  death  of  Branker, 
readers  puzzled  over  the  following  advertisement 
in  the  "  Times,''^  which  was  inserted  at  intervals 
of  a  week  each,  witiiout  ever  eliciting  any  thing 
in  the  shape  of  a  reply. 

"Marmaduke  Y y,  of  H — ksv — w,  can  re- 
turn to  England.  All  suspicion  is  cleared  from 
his  name  by  the  death-bed  confession  of  the  actual 
murderer.  Ele  is  anxiously  expected  by  all  who 
love  him,  and  is  entreated  to  communicate  with 
his  uncle  immediately." 

After  a  long  time  the  advertisement  varied, 
and  a  hundred  pounds  reward  was  oflered  to  any 
one  who  could  give  information  respecting  Mar- 
maduke Vescey,  of  Ilawksview,  who  was  sup- 
posed to  have  quitted  the  kingdom  in  18W,  after 
his  trial  at  Carlisle,  for  a  murder  of  which  he  was 
innocent.  The  proftered  reward  was  doubled 
and  trebled,  but  it  brought  no  clue  to  him,  living 
or  dead. 


2S8  nAWKSviEW. 

Mr.  Loftus  it  was  who  inserted  these  adver- 
tisements ;  he  was  growing  an  elderly  man  now, 
and  he  longed  passionate!}'  to  embrace  his  nephew 
and  to  see  him  restored  to  his  natural  place  in 
the  world  before  he  died.  From  the  hour  when 
they  parted  at  the  Carlisle  inn,  he  had  never 
heard  a  single  word  of  the  lafl — Marmaduke  had 
voluntarily  severed  every  link  of  communication 
between  himself  and  his  former  friends.  What 
was  become  of  him  formed  the  theme  of  many 
wild  conjectures,  both  at  Boscombe  and  else- 
where, but  a  painful  idea  lurked  in  silence,  that 
he  ha<l  sunk  so  low  in  the  world,  that  pride 
withheld  him  from  coming  forward  and  present- 
ing himself.  The  week  the  first  advertisement 
was  published,  was  the  week  that  the  Bohuns 
went  into  Kent  to  see  and  take  leave  of  their 
gallant  young  soldier,  on  his  departure  for  his 
first  campaign. 

Tristan  was  hot  and  eager  for  the  fray,  and 
excited  the  sympathy  of  his  proud  old  grandsire, 
who  had  himself  served  in  Spain,  under  the 
Duke.  Roger  was  remarkably  cheerful,  and 
Mona  kept  up  her  heart  wonderfully;  but  the 
boy's  mother  was  sad  and  tremulous.  She  had 
companionship  in  her  natural  sorrow,  for  Colonel 
Ki(;hard  Bohun  was  going  out  aUo,  and  his 
elderly  German  wife  was  persuaded  she  should 


IIAWKSVIEW.  2  SO 

see  liim  no  more.  Lord  Bolinn  appeared  to 
think  much  more  of  his  grandson  Tristan  than 
of  his  son  Richard.  Was  it  because  he  saw  in 
the  former  the  future  representative  of  the 
ancient  barony,  which  was  his  visible  god  ?  Miss 
Sage  Booty,  to  her  never-ending  exultation,  had 
received  an  invitation  to  present  herself  at  Castle 
Bohun,  which  invitation  had  been  won  for  her 
by  Mona's  laughing  communication  to  her  grand- 
papa of  the  amiable  spinster's  intentions  with 
regard  to  Tristan ;  a  state  of  feelings  which  the 
old  lord  said  was  a  very  proper  one  to  encourage. 
The  party  spent  a  week  together,  and  then  all 
journeyed  in  company  to  London,  where  Colonel 
Richard's  regiment,  in  which  also  Tristan  served, 
was  preparing  for  embarkation. 

It  was  on  a  February  morning  that  they 
marched  out  of  their  barracks,  through  streets 
alive  with  sympathising  spectators,  on  their  way 
to  Portsmouth.  Mona  and  her  father  followed 
with  the  stream  to  the  station,  and  then  rejoined 
Agnes  and  Miss  Sage  Booty,  who  were  deter- 
mined to  go  down  and  see  them  embark,  and 
have  the  last  glimpse  of  Tristan.  The  same 
evening  it  was  that  they  went  on  board,  and 
when  it  came  to  the  final  separation,  the  mother 
plucked  up  her  fortitude  and  courage,  and  showed 
her  boy  a  cheering  face.  "It  seems  to  mo 
13 


200         .  HAWKSVIEW. 

saddest  lor  those  wlio  go  "without  aiij  to  regret 
them,  Mona,"  said  she,  as  the  men  filed  past ; 
"  'tis  an  inspiring  sight  —  here  is  my  boy  !" 
Tristan  looked  all  Hie  and  spirit — they  all  took  it 
as  an  angury  for  good. 

"  He  will  come  back  to  us,  plgase  God,"  replied 
Mona,  fervently  ;  and  strange  it  -was  to  see  her 
eyes  dinimoi*  than  all  the  rest. 

Miss  Sage  Booty  was  in  a  state  of  violent 
excitement. 

"  6'«;' Tristan's  a  boy  to  be  proud  of,''  said  she; 
"  and  there's  another  I  would  be  fain  to  see 
uiarching  here,  and  that's  Marmaduke  Yescej'." 

"I  was  just  thinking  of  him  too,"  added 
Agnes.  "What  brings  him  to  my  mind  now,  I 
wonder !" 

As  Miss  Sage  Booty  uttered  the  name  of  Mar- 
maduke Yescey,  a  man  in  the  ranks,  with  a 
Serjeant's  stripes  on  his  arm,  was  passing.  lie 
turned  a  dark  handsome  face  toward  her,  and 
emil'cd  under  his  thick  moustache,  but  went  on 
unrecognised.  That  was  Marmaduke  Vesccy, 
under  another  name,  one  of  the  most  gallant  of 
all  that  gallant  host  of  men.  "When  he  stood 
upon  the  deck  of  the  ship  amidst  his  comrades, 
and  looked  back  to  the  shore  at  the  cheering  and 
wee})ing  multitude,  he  saw  Agnes  leaning  on  her 
husband's    arm,     waving    her    handkerchief    to 


HAWKSVIEAV.  201 

Tristan,  In  the  beautiful  girl  beside  her,  he  i-e- 
cognised  the  merry  child  who  used  to  climb  upon 
his  knee  and  stick  flowers  into  his  hair  ;  and  under 
his  coarse  scarlet  coat  his  heart  beat  to  a  great 
resolve,  that  in  the  coming  struggle  he  would  win 
a  name  of  honor  to  himself  or  die.  There  was  no 
one  amongst  that  throng  watching  for  him  ;  but 
he  kept  his  eyes  upon  that  little  group  of  his  one- 
time friends,  until  he  could  distinguish  them  no 
more,  and  then  addressed  himself  to  a  comrade 
who  had  left  behind  what  all  men  hold  dear 
— his  young  wife  and  little  son. 


202  HAWKSVIEW. 


CHAPTER  lY. 

How  was  it,  then,  that  Marmaduke  Yescej, 
after  ten  years  abroad  on  the  world,  found 
himself  one  of  the  undistinguished  rank  and  file 
of  a  regiment  of  Guards  ?  He  had  left  Carlisle, 
as  we  have  seen,  to  help  himself.  In  a  month 
his  uncle's  money  was  expended.  He  had  but 
one  strong  predilection  in  his  mind — he  was  a  born 
soldier;  and  as  his  evil  fortune  had  ruled  that  he 
should  not  enter  the  army  amongst  gentlemen, 
his  equals,  he  carried  his  thews  and  sinews  and 
six  feet  three  of  stature  to  a  recruiting  office,  and 
enlisted  himself  in  the  ranks.  It  was  slow  pro- 
motion in  the  piping  times  of  peace ;  but  when 
the  rumor  of  war  sounded  through  quiet  camps, 
Marmaduke  Vescey  prevised  that  his  time  was 
come  either  to  fulfil  his  visions  of  glory,  or  to 
leave  his  bones  to  bleach  on  a  field  of  battle.  So 
he  marched  with  his  regiment  eagerly  ;  and  if 
ever  he  was  disposed  to  rail  at  fate  for  having 
allotted  to  him  in   it  a  grade  so  remote  from  his 


HAVVKSVIEW.  293 

aspiration,  he  never  found  the  panacea  of  inde- 
pendent spirit  to  fail  him  when  he  thundered  out 
his  favorite  song,  "  A  man's  a  man  for  a'  that !" 
He  was  a  favorite  in  the  regiment,  both  with  the 
officers  and  with  his  comrades.  Out  of  school  into 
the  ranks  was  but  exchanging  one  form  of  discipline 
for  another,  and  it  never  galled  him  as  it  would 
have  done  had  he  passed  through  a  long  interme- 
diate stage  of  freedom  and  idleness.  He  was  a 
m%ht3'  man  in  all  trials  of  strength ;  he  was 
better  educated  than  half  of  his  officers ;  but  he 
had  such  a  frank  simplicity  of  mind,  and  such  an 
easy  courage  of  manner,  combined  with  strict 
sobriety  and  discipline,  that  none  could  feel 
jealous,  none  refrain  from  liking  him.  It  was 
known  by  all  that  he  was  a  gentleman  by  birth, 
and  it  was  surmised  by  many  that  Sergeant  Carr 
bore  a  name  to  which  he  had  no  right ;  but  when 
one  of  his  comrades,  with  rough  good  humor, 
challenged  him  on  the  subject,  the  sergeant  put 
him  to  silence  so  imperatively  that  there  was  not 
a  man  in  the  regiment  ever  cared  to  moot  that 
theme  again.  Bat  Marmaduke  Yescey  never 
forgot  the  order  he  had  left,  and  never  ceased  to 
aspire  to  its  re-conquest.  What,  then,  would  have 
been  his  glowing  feeling  had  he  been  so  for- 
tunate as  to  light  upon  the  advertisement  that  his 
Uncle  Loftus  had  caused  to  be  inserted  in  the 


20-1  IIAWKSVIEW. 

Times'i  But  though  he  studied  tlio  newspaper, 
it  was  not  the  advertisement  slieet  that  attracted 
him,  so  it  was  passed  over,  and  he  marched  out 
of  Eiighind  without  knowing  that  liis  real  name 
was  clear  of  sliadow,  and  he  might  resume  it 
any  day. 

Tiie  group  on  the  shore,  as  the  vessel  moved 
awa}',  haunted  his  mind  all  through  the  voyage, 
lie  liked  to  think  of  Agnes,  who  had  believed 
in  his  innocence  so  o])enly,  and  of  that  beautldil 
Mona,  all  wliuse  cliildish  professions  of  liking 
recurred  to  him  with  a  curious  distinctness.  He 
one  day  contrived  to  get  into  conversation  with 
Ensign  Bohun,  whom  he  remembered  chiefly  as 
a  noisy  seven-year-cild  drummer  at  Boscombe 
rectory,  and  told  him  he  was  an  Astondale  man, 
a  piece  of  information  which  induced  the  dandy 
boy-otiicer — for  Tristan  was  a  dandy  of  the  first 
water — to  patronize  Sergeant  Carr  considerably 
and  to  speak  of  him  afterward  in  his  letters 
home  as  the  finest  man  in  the  regiment,  except, 
perhaps.  Uncle  Richard,  its  Colonel. 

It  was  through  Tristan  that  the  important 
advertisement  came,  at  length,  before  Mar m ad uke 
Vescey's  eyes.  He  read  it  at  Malta,  with  what 
]»roud  throbbing  satisfaction  may  be  imagined. 
His  first  impulse  was  to  confide  his  case  to  liis 
Colonel,  and  get  leave  to  go  home  ;  but  scarcely 


IIAWKSVIEW.  295 

had  the  thought  suggested  itself  than  it  wa6 
scouted  angrily.  "I  will  remain  Sergeant  Carr 
through  our  lirst  campaign,"  said  he  to  himself, 
"  If  I  die  no  hearts  need  ache  for  me ;  if  I  can 
win  distinction,  then  the  old  name  shall  bear  it, 
and  Vescey  of  Ilawksview  shall  come  by  honor 
again."  He  left  the  newsjiaper  on  the  Ensign's 
table,  where  he  saw  it  on  going  into  his  room,  with 
a  message  from  the  Colonel;  but  he  carried  away 
in  his  mind  a  very  clear  impression  of  the  adver- 
tisement. He  never  happened  to  see  any  of  the 
several  repetitions  of  it  that  afterward  appeared, 
or  probably  he  might  have  given  some  intimation 
of  his  existence  and  whereabouts  to  his  Uncle 
Loftus.  Tlie  rapid  and  exciting  events  of  the  next 
year  or  two  kept  him  so  earnestly  employed,  that 
few  thoughts,  beyond  the  day  and  its  work,  ever 
intruded  into  his  active  mind.  It  is  from  Ensign 
Tristan's  letters  home  that  the  details,  both  of  his 
own  doings — of  which  the  modest  young  gentle- 
man says  but  little — and  of  Sergeant  Carr's 
impetuous  gallantry,  will  be  best  gathered.  The 
boy  soldier  usually  addressed  his  epistles  to  his 
mother,  who  was  a  tolerant  critic  of  queer  ortho- 
gra])hy  and  irregular  grammar.  Tristan  was  no 
scholar  ;  but  he  was  a  fair  shot,  and  bravo,  as  all 
English  blood  is.  In  one  of  his  earliest  letters, 
written  from  Yarna,  during  the  time  of  mortality 


L^DG  UAWKSVIEW. 

there,  we  find  him  sending  messages  to  Miss  Sage 
Booty,  ul)ont  the  Lrillitiiit  success  of  her  Globh,  in 
warding  off  sickness  from  liiinself  and  friends,  and 
greedily  hinting  that  a  second  consignment  of  the 
same  admirable  specific  Avould  never  come  amiss. 
Another  relates  an  encounter  with  an  old  family 
friend,  E^  Burton,  Avho  followed  the  expeditionary 
force,  mounted  on  a  shaggy  Cossack  pony,  from 
the  time  of  its  landing  in  the  Crimea  until  the  war 
was  closed.  Agnes  treasured  these  letters,  as  if 
they  were  compositions  beyond  all  price;  and  so, 
to  her  they  were.  Passing  over  a  few  of  the 
earlier  documents,  we  will  give  Master  Tristan's 
account  of  his  first  engagement,  in  the  epistolary 
style  which  his  mother  thought  so  admirable : — 

"  My  Darling  Mother, 

"I'm  all  right  after  our  brush  with  tlie  Kus- 
sians  at  Alma,  which,  I  dare  say,  you  have  read 
about  in  the  pa})ers,  except  a  hole  in  my  coat 
sleeve,  and  a  shave  of  sJcin  off  n)y  elbow,  that  a 
sixpence  will  more  than  cover.  'Tis  the  only  bit 
oi glory  I  got  tlirough  the  day,  but  'tis  my  right 
arm,  and  that  is  as  much  of  it  as  1  could  afford  to 
lose  so  early  in  the  cHmi)aign.  AVe  cruised  about 
in  the  Black  Sea  ever  so  many  days,  but  saw 
none  of  the  Russians  fleet — they  were  afraid  to 


HAWK8VIEW.  lli>7 

come  out.  At  last  we  landed,  and  glad  was  I 
to  be  on  terra  firma,  even  an  enemy's  terra  firnia. 
'Tis  Harry  who  is  tlie  diick  of  the  family,  and 
takes  the  water  best.  I  Avish  Mona  could  have 
seen  the  march  on  the  19th  from  Kamischli  to 
Biilganak,  where  we  bivouacked  the  night  before 
the  battle.  'Twas  as  fine  as  'a picture.  The  next 
morning  we  went  forward  again,  and  about  noon 
on  ci'ossing  a  line  of  hill  we  came  full  in  sight  of 
the  Russians  entrenched  be^yond  the  river  Alma, 
three  miles  distant.  We  advanced  steadily,  until 
we  were  within  two  hundred  yards  of  the  river, 
then  rested  for  five  minutes,  and  forward.  The 
shot  was  flying  about  us  like  hail ;  at  first  it  took 
away  my  breath,  but  my  blood  warmed  fast,  and 
then  I  felt  mad  like  to  be  at  them.  When  avc 
got  to  the  river,  the  men  dashed  in — we  were  up 
to  our  inaists  in  water — and  we  halted  under 
shelter  of  a  high  baidc  to  re-form.  By  this  time 
the  light  division  had  gained  the  entrenchment, 
but  they  were  forced  back,  and  some  confusion 
took  place  amongst  those  advancing  to  their  sup- 
port, out,  poured  the  Russians  amongst  us,  and  a 
terrible  struggle  ensued.  'Twas  my  honorable 
post  to  carry  the  color  that  day.  Foulis  was  with 
me  as  we  climbed  the  steeps,  but  in  this  melee  he 
fell,  never  to  rise  again.  I  thought,  mother,  if  it 
had  been  me — and  poor  Foulis  was  his  mother's 
13* 


29;^  HAWKSVIEW. 

only  son.  1  think  but  for  Sergeant  Can*  of  ours 
— -who,  I  told  you  before,  was  an  Astondale  man 
— 1  should  have  left  7/iy  bc^nes  there  too.  A 
Russian  struck  me  on  the  head  with  his  sword, 
but  my  cap  saved  me,  thouirli  I  was  dizzied  by 
the  blow.  He  was  lifting  his  hand  for  another 
stroke,  when  I  could  not  have  warded  off  a  piti 
or  a  strai'o,  but  Carr  sprang  on  him  and  cut  him 
down.  'Twas  here  that  Captain  Morley  died, 
and  that  Edward  Wyvil  got  his  mortal  wound. 
ITncle  Richard  was  always  in  the  van  cheering  on 
his  men.  I  think  our  Lady  Monica  must  have 
been  witli  him,  for  he  got  no  hurt  though  his 
horse  was  killed  under  him,  and  he  always 
seemed  to  be  where  the  bullets  were  flving: 
tiiickest.  The  regiment  suffered  heavily,  as  you 
will  see  when  you  read  the  list  of  killed  and 
wounded.  Some  of  our  men  got  separated  from 
the  muin  body,  and  were  cut  to  j>icc<'8  by  the 
Russians.  I  am  sorry  to  say,  that  Tom  Dobbie, 
Osythe^s  grandson,  was  amongst  them.  The  Rus- 
sians finally  ran  awaj/,  and  the  day  was  ours. 
AVhile  we  were  excitrd  with  the  victory,  the 
Ecene  was  not  bo  fearful ;  hnt,  mother,  the  dead 
faces  I  saw  when  I  was  cool  next  morning,  will 
haunt  me  as  long  as  I  live.  Some  poor  wounded 
fellows  wore  out  all  night.  I  saw  Eli  Burton's 
long  8ha7ik8  qmH  shaggy  pony  often  that  day  ;  he 


HAWK8VIEW.  29!> 

went  everywhere — always  into  J;lie  dangerous 
places,  and  always  in  liis  spectacles.  He  found 
iTie  out  at  evening,  and  drank  Miss  Sage  Booty's 
health  in  a  glass  of  her  Glohh  cognac.  I  have 
more  compliments  and  good  wishes  to  her  than 
the  postage  of  one  letter  will  carry  ;  but  I'll  send 
her  one  all  to  herself  soon,  with  the  names  of  her 
graieful  adtnirers.  Sergeant  Can*  saj^s  he  has  a 
high  respect  for  her,  and  I'm  sure  she  will  have 
for  Atm,  when  you  tell  her  how  he  saved  her  pre- 
cious godson's  life.  AVe  have  a  great  deal  of  sick- 
ness amongst  us,  and  a  lack  of  necessaries  of  all 
kinds ;  but  we  are  eager  for  another  tussle,  and 
the  sooner  the  better.  'Tis  well  Harry's  ship 
is  with  the  fleet.  They  say  the  scene  of  the 
battle  from  the  sea  was  ^ra^i^Z— lookers-on  see 
more  than  actors.  I  was  in  the  smoke  too  much 
to  see  far  about  me.  If  it  please  God  that  I 
should  come  home  again,  I  shall  have  thousands 
of  things  to  tell  you  ;  but  now  I  must  stop. 

"  My  love  to  my  father  and  Mona,  and  your 
daTling  self,  from  your  afl'ectionate  Son, 

"Tkistan  EonuN." 

The  name  of  Sergeant  Carr  was  a  great  puzzle 
to  the  Rectory  Family,  for  when  Miss  Sage 
Booty  was  applied  to,  to  say  who  he  was,  she 
declared  there  were  no  Carrs  from  one  end  of 


300  HAAVKSVIEW. 


Astondale  to  iJie  other,  and  never  had  been,  to 
her  knowledge.  "  Unless,  indeed,"  she  suggested, 
■with  a  peevish  air,  "  it  be  Topsy  Carr,  who  was 
poor  Auguetus  Blayde's  first  curate  here,  and 
whom  I  drove  away  for  his  unclerical  ways  and 
customs.  I  should  think  it  very  impertinent  in 
Topsy  Carr  to  have  a  high  respect  for  rae,  for  I 
never  spoke  a  civil  word  to  him  in  my  life.  But  it 
may  be,  he  was  far  fitter  for  camp  than  church." 

"  Tristan  once  before  sj)oke  of  him  as  a  very 
tall,  strong,  fine  looking  man,"  suggested  .\rona. 

"  Topsy  Carr  might  have  been  a  prize-fighter ; 
but  as  for  beinsr  fiue-lookinor  that  is  a  matter  of 
taste,  lie  had  a  round  nose,  freckles,  and  red 
hair.  /  considered  him  ugly,  myself;  but  I  was 
always  fastidious  about  men — curates,  especially. 
You  can  describe  Topsy  Carr  to  Tristan  when 
you  write;  and  if  the  Sergeant  he  that  person, 
why  I'll  send  him  a  case  of  real  Globb — he  loved 
strong  waters  dearly." 

But  Tristan  replied,  in  answer  to  inquiries, 
that  the  ex-curate  did  not  correspond  with  the 
Sergeant  at  all,  unless  he  had  dyed  his  hair, 
and  shaped  his  nose  into  more  classical  mould 
since  he  nad  exchanged  the  ministry  for  the 
sword,  which  seemed  improbable ;  and  Osytho 
Dobbie  having  also  asserted  that  she  never  knew 
any  Carrs  in  the  valley,  not  she,  the  mystery 


IIAWKSVIEW.  301 

remained  unelucidated.  Anotlier  of  the  ensign's 
despatches  gives  a  pathetic  account  of  the  loss 
of  j)art  of  his  baggage,  iuchiding  the  jjrecions 
Glohh,  and  then  goes  on,  "It  did*  my  heart 
good  to  see  our  Harry  in  BalacLava,  t'other  day  ; 
we  met  quite  by  accident.  He  has  come  ashore 
with  Captain  Lusliington's  Naval  Brigade  to 
'  sarve  aboard  tents,''  as  Jack  says."  Tlie  next 
gives  a  detailed  account  of  the  battle  of  Bala- 
clava and  its  famous  cavalry  charge,  of  which 
the  writer  speaks  with  soldierly  enthusiasm ;  but 
as  he  took  no  part  in  the  action  of  that  day, 
we  will  pass  it  over  for  one  received  at  Boscombe, 
late  in  November,  after  the  battle  of  Inkermann, 
when  Sergeant  Carr  again  appears  as  his  pre- 
server, in  circumstances  of  more  .imminent  peril 
than  before.     The  lad  shall  tell  his  own  tale. 

"My  DEA.B  Father  and  Mother, 

"The  glorious  5th  of  November  has  left  me 
sound  in  wind  and  limb,  considerably  to  my 
astonishment,  thanks  to  G^d  and  Sergeant  Carr 
again.  The  papers  will  have  told  you  that  the 
Russians  surprised  us.  We  knew  that  they  had 
got  in  very  large  reinforcements,  and  rather  an- 
ticipated a  second  attack  on  Balaclava;  but  they 
'  fell  upon  us  in  a  diflerent  quarter,  the  weakest 
and  most  exposed  of  our  positions.     I  was  out 


302  IIAWKSVIEW. 

with  the  picket  on  the  Jiight  of  the  -ith,  and  a 
bitter  night  it  was.  I  had  nioimted  Miss  Sage 
Booty's  jyonc'Ao ;  but  couKl  not  keep  warm  nnder 
it,  'twas  so  ralni/.  I  had  never  seen  the  camp  so 
quiet  \  only  a  light  now  and  then  in  the  lines 
gleamed  through-the  mist.  Tlie  batteries  on  both 
sides  were  silent,  and  about  an  hour  before  mid- 
night the  church  bells  in  Sebastopol  began  to 
toll.  We  wondered  what  was  up.  The  air  was 
60  hushed,  that  Sergeant  Carr  said  he  could  dis- 
tinguish a  sW'Uhig  sound  as  of  thousands  of  men's 
voices  uplifted  in  a  solemn  chant.  'Twas  in  the 
darkest  of  the  morning  that  one  of  the  picket 
reported  to  the  captain  a  thiuuhrinj  sound  in  the 
valley  below  the  hill,  where  we  were  lying  out. 
We  thought  that  it  was  only  the  ^oagom  oi  the 
convoy  entering  the  city,  but  it  ])rovcd  to  be  the 
enemy  s  aHiUery,  which  they  brought  up  und^r 
Gomr  of  night.  I  heard  afterward  that  the 
French  turned  out  early,  roused  by  these  suspi- 
cious sounds ;  but  it  was  not  until  the  gloomy 
day  broke  that  we  discovered  what  the  Russians 
were  at.  We  saw  a  half  a  dozen  of  our  men 
rumiing  toward  us,  and  Sergeant  Carr,  who  had 
been  very  alert  and  restless  all  the  night,  cried 
out,  '"'tis  a  surprise!"  The  grcy-eontu^  like 
swarmtf  of  locu-fts,  rushed  up  the  hill  and  the 
battle  of  Inker/nan  began  !     O  !  mother  darling, 


UAWKSVIEW.  303 

Alma  was  chikVs  play  to  it.  While  our  picket 
fell  back,  fighting  eveiy  inch  of  ground,  the  aiann 
spread  through  the  camp,  but  we  were  obliged  to 
give  waj,  and  I  never  shall  forget  Sergeant  Garr's 
rage  when  the  Russian  guns  were  dragged  up 
the  hill  to  the  position  we  were  forced  to 
abandon.  We  ought  to  have  had  a  battery  of 
our  own  there,  and  its  occupation  by  the 
enemy  cost  us  dearly  that  day.  I  cannot  de- 
scribe this  battle ;  'twas  a  series  of  individual 
conflicts.  The  mist  hid  all  distant  movements. 
The  E-ussians  were  intoxicated  with  religious 
fanaticism  and  raka  ;  they  precipitated  themselves 
upon  us  with  fury.  'Twas  clear  they  had  come 
out  to  achieve  great  deeds  that  day ;  and  they 
did  show  more  spirit  than  we  had  giv^cn  them 
credit  for  before.  We  who  had  been  out  on 
picket  or  in  the  trenches  all  night  were  desperately 
cold  and  hungry,  but  such  minor  miseries  were 
soon  forgotten.  Uncle  Richard  soon  got  his  men 
together.  All  the  troops  came  up  as  last  as  they 
could  by  brigades,  battalions,  or  companies,  and 
took  whatever  ground  was  most  important  to  be 
occupied  at  the  moment.  There  was  a  two-gun 
battery  where  the  fighting  raged  most  fiercely. 
Tlie  41st  and  49th,  after  holding  it  a  little  while 
aga'inst  overwhelming  odds,  had  just  been  driven 
fi'om  it  as  we  came  up,  aiid  the  Russians  were 


o(J  1:  UAWKSVIEW. 

gleefully  yelling  over  their  victory.  Tlic  guards 
ansvtered  back  with  a  ch^er  and  they  swejjt  iliem 
clean  out  of  the  battery.  Again  they  cauie  up  in 
headlong  torrents^  thrice  they  gained  the  parapets, 
and  thrice  they  were  driven  back  with  fearful 
slaughter.  Still  unexhausted  the}'  poured  in  like  a 
returning  wave  and  surrounded  us.  We  were  at 
close  quarters  now,  man  to  man,  or  rather  07ie  man 
to  a  half  a  dozen  Busses.  Sergeant  Carr  was 
near  me,  and  his  courage  was  woifderful  j  'twas 
like  that  of  the  ancient  heroes.  Ilis  musket  was 
broken,  but  his  arm  wielded  it  and  came  down 
with  the  weight  of  a  sledge  hammer.  If  I  told 
you  how  many  fell  before  him  you  would  think  I 
•was  romancing.  The  thick  fug  j)revented  the 
other  divisions  from  seeing  our  perilous  j)osition, 
even  if  they  could  have  brought  ns  help.  Our 
band  was  scarcely  a  thousand  strong,  and  the 
word  l)eing  passed  to  "  keep  firm  on  the  colors,'*^ 
we  ran  out  and  up  the  hill,  leaving  many  of  our 
poor  fellows  wound(d  within  the  battery.  When 
we  retook  it  they  had  all  been  killed.  As  the  day 
advanced  the  sun^came  out  npon  the  field,  and 
showed  U8  our  own  thin  line  o])po6e(l  to  den^<e 
masses  of  the  Russians;  but  the  nicn  still  fought 
with  dogged  courage^  and  fell  with  their  faces  to 
tlie  foe.  'Twas  a  right  welccune  sound  when  the 
bugles  and   the  loud  vivas  of  the  French  eclioed 


HAWKS  VIEW.  305 

along   the  hill  top;  down  swept  impetuous  the 
Chasseurs  and  Zouaves^  our  wearied  men  rallied., 
raised  a  cheer.,  and  rushed  on  with   our  gallant 
allies.     The  Russians   turned  and  fled,  throwing 
away  their  arms  as  they  ran.     'IVas  then  that 
Uncle   liichard  was  struck  from  iiis  horse,  and 
Sergeant  Carr  hayoneted  the  two  Russians  who 
were  upon  him,  and  so  saved  his  life.     I  saw  the 
whole  aft'air,  and   as  soon  as  Uncle  Richard  was 
on  his  feet  again,  the  Sergeant  left  him  to  join  the 
pursuit.     'Twas  not  m^^  luck  to  see  any  more  that 
day,  for  a  shot,  almost  spent,  struck  me  on  the 
right  knee  and  brought  me  to  the  ground.     1  had 
got  a  thrust  in  the  arm  too,  and  fell  sick  with  the 
pain  it  gave  me,  or  the  blood  I  had  lost;  but 
neither  wound  was  of  serious  importance.     I  limj) 
a  little,  but  shall  soon  be  better  of  that.     I  had 
dropped  below  a  hillock,  and  was  unconscious 
for  an  hour  or  two.     There  were  many  dead  and 
wounded  all  about  me,  and  the  shot  came  amongst 
us  where  we  lay.     When  I  came  to  myself  I  tried 
to  crawl  away  but  could  not  manage  it.     I  was 
in  such  a  fever  of  thirst  that  I  would  have  sold  my 
birthright  for   a  drink  cf  water.     'Twas   great 
misery;  but  there  were  hundreds  worse  hurt  than 
myself.     'Twas  toward  night,  when  I  had  almost 
made  up  my  mind  that  I  must  lie  there  and  die, 
that  I  saw  Sergeant  Carr  coming  toward  me.     He 


SU(J  IIAWKSVIEW. 

Stopped  oiicc  to  give  a  poor  fellow  a  drink,  and  I 
haded  hiin  as  strongly  as  I  could.  lie  came 
running  in  an  eestacy  ol"  delight,  and  said  he  hud 
been  afraid  to  find  me  dead.  Yuu  might  have 
thought  he  was  my  brother  from  the  Reeling  he 
showed.  lie  helped  me  up,and  carried  racdown 
tlie  hill  a  little  way,  and  now  comes  his  great  feat 
of  ar?n  not  arms,  that  is  to  say,  weajxms.  AVc 
Avere  passing  by  a  clump  of  thick  brushwood 
where  half  a  dozen  Russians  had  contrived  to  hi<h 
themselves,  and  seeing  such  a  brilliant  opportu- 
nity of  distinguisliing  themselves,  out  they 
sprang.  The  Sergeant  must  somewhere  have 
learned  the  noble  science  of  self-defence,  for  the 
first  went  down  before  a  blow  of  his  Jist,  that 
would  \\SL\e yelled  an  ox.  lie  wrested  the  musket 
out  of  his  hands,  and  swinging  it  round  his  head 
like  a  staff,  compelled  the  others  to  keep  a 
ivspectfnl  distance.  All  this  time  he  kept  on 
moving  toward  our  lines,  and  only  one  fellow  got 
a  poke  at  him.  I  suppose  their  animunition  must 
have  been  ttjjcnt,  or  we  had  both  been  dead  tiivn 
that  niglit.  The  fellows  did  not  follow  far,  and 
got  away,  ])rybaljly  after  dark,  to  their  own  camj). 
The  Sergeant's  wound  was  a  bayonet  thruat  in  the 
hide,  a  terrihh  painful  wound,  lie  is  gone  to 
Scutari  ]i(>bj>ital,  and  Uncle  Richard  says  he  shall 
lecummend  him  for  his  commission — he  ought  to 


IIAWKSVIEW.  307 

luive  it,  I'm  sure — there's  not  a  hravcr  or  hetter 
gentleman  in  the  whole  army.  When  we  come 
hoDie  yon  must  all  know  liim.  Inkornian  made 
me  a  lieutenant.  I  dare  not  speak  or  tliinlx  of  our 
losses ;  but  the  Russians  sutfered  inuch  more 
severely.  This  is  a  long  letter,  and  as  I  am  not  a 
dab  with  my  pen,  let  it  go  to  grandpapa,  so  I 
shall  not  have  to  do  my  account  twice  over. 
Harry  is  in  glorious  spirits  ;  he  was  u]3  here  a  day 
or  two  since,  and  sends  his  love.  Eli  Burton  has 
given  up  spectacles.  He  told  me  why  ;  'twas 
because  a  shot  struck  the  ground  near  him,  and 
dashed  up  the  gravel,  and  hroke  the  glasses.  He 
was  nearly  taken  prisoner  a  week  ago.  He  had 
ventured  a  good  way  beyond  our  lines,  with 
either  geological  or  hotanical  views,  and  two 
Russians  gave  chase  after  him  ;  but  his  little 
Cossack  pony  brought  him  all  safe  in  except  his 
loide-awahe.  He  is  an  immense  favorite  here. 
Sergeant  Carr  said  he  knew  him  ;  but  they  never 
met,  which  I  was  sorry  for.  'Tis  a  cold  wet 
night.  I  fancy  you  round  the  fire  at  home^  and 
wish  I  were  with  you.  I  shall  look  for  lettei's 
hefore  Christmas  day,  when  yoii  must  tliink  of  me, 
and  I  shall  think  of  you.  'Tis  the  Jlrst  Christmas 
I  shall  have  ever  spent  awag  from  jon  all. 
My  love  to  you,  my  dear  father  and  mother,  to 
Mona,  Louis  and  Mammie,  and  now  good-night 

"Tristan   BonuN." 


308  HAWKS  VIEW. 

A  copy  of  this  letter  was  duly  forwarded  to 
Castle  Bolinn  ;  but  the  original  document  Agnes 
would  not  sulfur  out  of  her  own  sight.  Miss  Sage 
Booty  was  obliged  to  come  down  and  read  it  at 
the  rectory,  ^which  she  did  every  day  for  a  week 
after  it  was  received.  'The  gallant  Sergeant 
was  niore  than  ever  an  object  of  interest  and 
mystery  to  Tristan's  family,  and  again  inquiries 
M-ere  made  up  and  down  the  dale  for  any  of 
his  kith  or  kin,  but  with  signal  ill-success. 
Mona,  in  her  enthusiasm  for  whatever  was  brave 
or  noble,  reverenced  his  idea  warmly ;  and  in 
answer  to  her  brother's  letter,  she  wrote  that 
she  longed  to  see  and  thank  his  preserver.  It 
was  about  this  time  that  the  hearts  of  the  people 
of  England  were  beginning  to  burn  at  the  stories 
of  the  sufierings  of  the  soldiers  in  hospital;  and 
when  tlie  nurses  went  out,  Miss  Sage  Booty  de- 
termined to  set  off  also,  chiefly  with  a  view  to 
seeing  that  Sergeant  Carr  was  i:)roperly  attended 
to.  She  made  extensive  purchases  of  warm 
clothing  and  internal  comforts;  but  just  when 
slie  had  solemnly  made  over  the  Globb  to  be 
used  in  the  parish  in  her  absence,  to  the  weeping 
Piper,  a  letter  from  Tristan  announced  that  the 
Sergeant  had  recovered  from  his  wound,  and  was 
come  back  to  liis  duties  in  the  Crimea.  Miss 
Sage  Booty  was   then   pei-suaded    from  her  tirst 


•u 


HAWKSVIEW.  309 

intention,  and  stayed  at  home,  her  welcome  con- 
signment of  good  things  being  duly  despatched 
in  her  stead. 


oiO  HAWKSVIEW. 


CHAPTER  Y. 

Sebastopol  had  fallen.  Tlie  war  was  at  an 
end  ;  peace  was  proclaimed  ;  the  Guards  were  on 
then*  way  home. 

Lord  Boliuii,  dictatorial  always,  was  domineer- 
ing now.  He  would  have  his  whole  family 
assembled  at  the  Castle  to  receive  their  returning 
heroes.  None  of  them  were  called  upon  to  mourn 
a  loss — Colonel  Richard,  Lieutenant  Tristan,  and 
Midshipman  Harry  were  all  safe. 

''  Grandpapa,  we  must  show  some  respect  to 
Sergeant  Carr,  to  whom  we  owe  both  Tristan  and 
the  Colonel,"  Mistress  Mona  suggested  eagerly. 

"  Of  course,  my  deai',  of  course.  We  shall  go 
to  town  when  the  Guards  make  their  entry  into 
London,  and  then  we  shall  see  and  thank  him."' 

Mona  seemed  to  think  that  a  very  moderate 
testimony  of  gratitude  ;  and  Alicia,  wlio  had  that 
scas(jn  begun  to  i)rove  the  iulluence  of  her  beauty 
upon  susceptible  younger  sons,  poiited  a  pretty 
disapproval.     "Grandpapa,  we  want  to  have  him 

• 


IIAAVKSVIEW.  oil 

here,"  said  she ;  "we  want  to  see  what  he  is  like. 
Thej"  say  he  is  not  quite  a  common  soldier,  you 
know,  and  that  he  has  had  an  education,  so  it 
need  not  be  awkward." 

The  old  Lord  looked  dubious.  "  I  should  be 
proud  to  sit  down  to  dinner  with  him  myself; 
but  there's  the  Colonel  and  Tristan,  and  there's 
military  etiquette,  my  dear,"  replied  he,  shaking 
his  white  head.  "  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  how  it 
would  do  ;  we  must  consult  Roger." 

"But  if  he  has  a  commission  given  to  him, 
grandpapa?"  persisted  the  brilliant  coquette,  who, 
Mona  angrily  suspected,  was  already  plotting  the 
destruction  of  the  Sergeant's  peace  of  mind. 

"  If  he  has  a  commission  given  to  him  that 
altei^the  case — a  Queen's  officer  is  all  men's 
equal,"  replied  Lord  Bohun. 

"  He  will  be  just  the  same  man  both  before 
and  after;  but  the  invitation  would  not  come 
with  the  same  grace  if  it  were  deferred,"  said 
Mona. 

"  He  shall  come.  There,  there,  children,  let 
me  go !  If  he  is  uncomfortable  amongst  us 
it  will  be  your  fault,"  and  the  grandpapa  re- 
treated. 

Alicia  laughed  aloud,  and  clapped  her  little 
white  hands.  "  'Twill  be  such  fun  !"  cried  she ; 
"I  expect  he's  quite  an  Ursa  Major." 


312    •  HAWKSVTEW. 

m 

MonsL  reddened  and  looked  vexed.  She  did  not 
like  her  enthusiasm  lor  Tristan's  preserver  to  be 
60  llippuntly  assailed.  If  you  arc  goin^^  to  tease 
him,  Alicia,  I  shall  be  quite  sorry  I  urged  grand- 
papa to  ask  him  here!"  she  exclaimed,  indig- 
nantly. 

"Tease  him  !  Do  you  think  I  shall  condescend 
to  do  more  than  bow  to  him  V  retorted  the 
beauty.  "I  have  no  grand  heroic  ideas  of  him 
such  as  you  entertain.  I  dare  say  he  transposes 
lis  h's,  and  puts  his  knife  into  his  mouth  at 
dinner!" 

Mistress  Mona  was  so  affronted  by  this  highly 
pruljable  suggestion,  that  she  drew  herself  up 
haughtily,  and  marched  out  of  the  room  ;  neither 
would  she  ever  enter  into  conversation  about 
Ser<;eaut  Carr  with  her  cousin  Alicia  again. 

Lord  Bohun  and  all  his  family  went  up  to 
London  two  or  three  days  before  the  Guards' 
triumphal  entry.  They  had  embraced  the  Colonel 
and  Tristan  beforehand,  having  met  them  where 
they  landed ;  and  an  invitation  to  Sergeant  Carr 
to  spend  his  first  leave  at  Castle  I3ohun  had  been 
forwarded  through  the  young  lieutenant.  The 
sergeant  accepted  it ;  but  ii&  it  happened  lie  did 
not  get  leave  at  o'nce,  ho  did  not  go  into  Kent 
until  Colonel  Kiehard  returned  to  town  from 
his  father's  house,  and  brought  a  repetition  of  the 


HAWKS  VIEW.  313 

invitation,  Mona  thought,  perhaps,  military  eti- 
quette had  something  to  do  with  this  arrange- 
ment ;  but  she  did. not  make  any  inquiries. 

Alicia  had  made  a  bewildering  toilette  for  the 
first  evening  that  the  sergeant  was  to  dine  there, 
and  was  clearly  bent  on  eaptivation  ;  bnt  her 
carefully  enhanced  charms  were  puerile  in  the  pre- 
sence of  Mona's  simple  dignity.  Mona  herself  was 
quite  excited  at  tlie  near  approach  of  a  meeting 
with  the  man  her  imagination  had  exalted  to  a 
hero,  and  asked  Tristan  over  and  over  again  how 
he  would  come,  and  at  what  hour  ?  He  did  not 
come  until  rather  late,  and  when  shown  into  the 
drawing-room  where  the  ladies  were  by  Tristan, 
who  had  met  him  at  the  door,  Agnes,  after  a 
moment's  startled  look  at  the  grave  brown  face, 
cried  aloud,  as  she  clasped  the  hand  stretched  out 
to  her  first,  "  Roger,  Tristan,  this  is  Marmaduke 
Vescey  of  Hawksview  !" 

"  I  remember  you  quite  well,"  said  Mona,  rising 
wiih  blushing  pleasure.  Tlie  sergeant  blushed 
too  as  their  fingers  met — "  lie  looked  down,  and 
she  looked  up,  and  so  they  fell  in  love." 

"  Marmaduke  Yescey,  one  of  the  most  ancient 
and  honorable  names  that  England  boasts,"  re- 
peated Lord  Bohun,  betraying  his  foible,  and 
thinking  far  more  highly  of  the  inherited  than 
tlie  personal  dignity  of  the  sergeant.  It  was 
U 


ol-t  liA^YKSVLb;^v. 

pleasanter  to  the  old  noble  to  owe  an  obligation 
to  one  of  his  own  order  than  to  an  interior;  and 
the  welcome  he  gave  big  guest,  was  cordial  in  the 
extreme.  Roger's  was  no  less  so  ;  but  it  was  tbe 
kind  words  and  looks  of  the  women  whicli  touciied 
the  soldier  most  nearly.  Tristan  stared  in  amaze- 
ment, and  then  gave  a  grasp  of  cuiigratulation  to 
the  right  baud  which  had  saved  him  more  than 
once.  "I've  often  heard  my  mother  talk  of  you  ; 
come  and  sit  by  her  !"  cried  he.  "  I  call  this  a 
regular  chapter  out  of  a  romance." 

O !  what  an  old,  old  chapter  of  romance  and 
real  life  it  was  that  floated  through  the  mind  of 
both  ATarmaduke  and  Mona  during  the  next  half 
hour  !  Marmaduke  talked  to  every  body  except 
Mona,  and  Mona  looked  at  every  one  except 
Marmaduke  ;  but  little  Mistress  Alicia,  witb  a 
true  feminine  jirescience,  detected  mischievously 
what  had  befallen  them  both,  and  vailed  her  use- 
less fascinations.  "When  tlie  i):>rty  were  pairing 
off  to  the  dining-room,  Tristan  cried,  "  Here 
VcJscey,"  (the  name  came  quite  familiar  already), 
"take  my  sister,  and  leave  me  Alicia.  Mona 
will  i»ut  you  through  a  catechism  iA'  the  war — ■ 
i^lie  never  tires  of  your  glories  I" 

Marn)aduke  Vescey  would  have  been  very  gbid 
to  submit  either  to  that  or  to  anything  else  she 
might  choose  to  inflict,  and   offered   his  arm  with 


HAWK8VIEW.  315 

a  grace  tliat  astonished  Alicia,  and  gave  her  a 
I'cally  serious  spasm  of  interest  iu  the  liandsome 
sergeant. 

"  I  want  to  ask  you  about  Hawksview,"  said 
Marmaduke  to  his  companion,  wlien  they  were 
seated  at  table,  and  the  hum  of  general  conversa- 
tion had  begun.  "  If  you  remember  me  so  long 
ago,  you  will  remember  the  old  cottage  that  once 
stood  there." 

"It  is  there  still.  I  have  heard  mamma  say 
tliat  some  workmen  were  once  sent  to  jniU  it 
down  ;  but  an  accident  happened  to  one  of  them 
the  first  day  it  was  attempted,  and  none  of  them 
could  be  prevailed  on  to  go  a  second  time ;  so  it 
was  left." 

"  I'm  glad  of  it.  I  always  regretted  my  order 
to  take  it  down." 

"  It  is  one  of  the  prettiest  walks  in  Astondale 
along  that  terrace  where  the  cedars  grow.  There 
are  no  such  trees  elsewhere." 

"  Osythe  Dobbie  lives,  and  Miss  Sage  Booty, 
I  understand  ?  I  had  often  a  difficulty  in  not 
betraying  myself  to  your  brother  when  he  spoke 
of  his  godmother  and  her  universal  Globb.  Are 
her  two  ponies,  Amen  and  Hallelujah,  living 
also?" 

"  Amen  is  dead,  and  Hallelujah  has  a  retiring 
pension,  and  a  little  paddock  to   himself.     She 


31G  riAWKSViEw. 

M'ill  be  liiglily  delighted  to  hear  tliat  yon  arc  not 
her  great  aversion,  Topsy  Carr,  and  that  still  you 
are  an  old  ac(juaintance.'' 

Marniadnke  Vescey  seemed  to  be  seized  with 
some  grave  reminiscences.  He  was  silent  several 
minutes,  and  then  spoke  abruptly  on  another 
theme:  "Do  you  know  ni}-  Uncle  Loftns?  Have 
you  ever  seen  him  f  he  inquired. 

"No;  but  papa  was  saying  only  the  other  day 
that  he  had  received  a  letter  from  him,  and  that 
his  anxiet}"-  to  see  you  grew  on  him." 

"  I  must  get  away  into  Scotland  speedily.  I 
knew  long  ago  that  he  was  seekirg  me  ;  but  I 
thought  to  spare  him  the  heart-ache  by  leaving 
liim  in  ignorance  of  where  1  was.  You  must 
liave  known  what  anxiety  was  while  Tristan  was 
away." 

"Yes,  indeed  ;  but  mamma  felt  it  the  most.  Do 
you  think  inannna  looks  well  to-night?" 

"Very  well — she  always  had  a  lovely  face.  I 
remember  her  when  I  was  a  little  lad,  and  she 
was  younger  than  you  are  now.  Vou  were  a 
baby ;  I  have  nursed  you  many  a  time — trotted 
you  on  my  pony.     Do  you  recollect  ?" 

Why  did  Mona  blush  so  beautifully  when  she 
said  "Yes?"  Perhaps  she  rec<»llected  something 
more.  Marmaduke  certainly  did  ;  and  he  knew 
quite  well  that  she  recollected  too.     So,  not  to 


UAWKSVTEW.  317 

confuse  lier,  lie  started  another  topic — and  tliis 
time  it  was  the  war — many  strange  and  grotesque 
incidents  in  which  he  related  with  great  spirit. 

"I  hope,  by  and  bye,"  said  Mona,  "  that  you 
will  get  your  commission  ;  you  have  fairly  earned 
it  if  ever  soldier  did." 

"  I  am  not  sanguine." 

There  has  been  many  a  fluent  chapter  written 
on  "  love  at  first  sight."  These  two  young  people 
had  certainly  known  each  other  before  ;  but  they 
met  now  under  such  widely  difi"erent  cii-cum- 
stances  that  they  might  be  regarded  as  strangers. 
In  their  own  minds,  however,  there  was  an  instant 
recognition  of  the  person  and  qualities  which  had 
long  been  the  ideal  of  each.  In  Mona,  Marma- 
duke  saw  the  incarnation  of  that  maidenly 
modesty,  beauty  and  spirit,  which  had  haunted 
his  masculine  dreams  as  a  vain  shadow  for  many 
a  year ;  and  in  Marmaduke,  Mona  felt  that 
power,  energy,  truth,  and  ardor,  which  she  had 
never  been  able  to  discern  in  any  of  the  speech- 
less aspirants  to  her  favor,  who  had  looked  up 
hopeful,  received  a  chilling  glance,  and  gone  on 
their  way. 

Alicia  sat  opposite  to  them  at  table,  with  her 
cousin  Tristan  on  one  side,  and  James  Lennox  on 
the  other ;  but  these  boys  were  comparatively 
tame  and  easy  conquests,  and  her  ambitious  little 


31 S  HAWK8VIEW. 

soul  was  fired  with  a  longing  to  subdue  the  grave, 
stately,  romantic  personage  whom  the  whole 
house  conspired  to  honor.  It  would  be  such  a 
feather  in  her  cap.  Not  that  siie  wished  to  vex 
cousin  Mona.  O  !  no.  Not  for  the  universe  ;  but 
it  would  be  the  greatest  fun.  And  there  was  no 
danger  for  herself,  as  she  was  incapable  of  a 
serious  passion ;  and  as  for  doubting  her  power^ 
such  a  Inuniliating  conception  was  far  from  her 
thoughts — she  could  accomplish  whatever  slie 
set  about  in  good  earnest,  and  she  would  quite 
enjoy  accomplishing  that  piece  of  mischief.  She 
would  open  the  campaign  in  the  drawing  room 
that  very  evening.  But  pretty  Alicia  might  have 
been  enacting  lier  wiles  and  graces  before  a  stone 
guardsman,  for  any  impression  they  made  upon 
the  heart  or  the  senses  ot"  Marmaduke  Vescey. 
lie  did  not  care  for  her  milk-white  skin,  or  her 
golden  "  men  traps,"  as  an  old  lexicographer  styles 
woman's  ringlets.  As  for  her  eyes,  lie  thought 
them  far  too  quick  and  brilliant ;  what  his  taste 
required  in  the  sex,  was  repose.  She  sang  a 
thrilliug  Frenchied  air;  but  her  dimples  and 
bridlings  and  arch  glances  were  wasted,  except 
upon  Tristan,  who,  with  cousinly  familiarity  said, 
"Jove,  Alicia,  but  you  are  going  the  pace  now. 
I'm  sorry  for  poor  Vescey." 

"  Don't  be  impertinent,  sir.     What  have  I  to 


UAWKSVIEW.  S19 

do  with  your  Sergeant  ?"  retorted  she,  shrugging 
her  fair  shoulders.     "  He's  a  perfect  savage." 

Tristan  laughed  and  told  James  Lennox,  who 
was  in  the  first  stage  of  infatuation  with  Alicia 
himself,  and  resented  it.  "  He  is  a  savage,"  said 
the  young  gentleman,  darting  furious  glances  at 
Marmaduke,  who,  in  a  state  of  beatitude,  sat 
between  Agnes  and  her  daughter,  conversing 
with  the  former,  and  agreeably  sensible  that  the 
latter  drank  in  every  word  that  he  uttered. 

It  was  a  warm,  moonlight  evening,  and  one  of 
the  drawing  room  windows  stood  open  to  the 
terrace  invitingly, 

"  Who  will  come  out  ?"  cried  Mistress  Alicia. 
"  'Tis  a  sin  to  stay  indoors  on  such  a  night." 
James  Lennox  sprang  forward  and  said  he  would; 
but  that  was  not  what  his  fair  cousin  meant. 
"  Cousin  Mona,  you  adore  the  moonlight.  Why 
don't  you  walk  on  the  terrace?" 

Marmaduke  Vescey  was  on  his  feet  in  a  mo- 
ment. "  Yes,  come  out,"  said  he,  eagerly. 
"  You  will  not  move,  Mrs.  Bohun  ?" 

But  Agnes  would,  and  she  accepted  his  arm, 
Mona  taking  her  mother's  also ;  and  in  this  order 
they  passed  out  upon  the  broad  paved  walk  in 
front  of  the  Castle.  Alicia  was  foiled  again,  and 
she  was  rather  cross  in  consequence ;  the  moon- 
li":ht  was  less  attractive  than  before. 


820  nAWKSTIEW. 

"  Mona,  won't  yoii  coino  down  and  look  at  the 
lake?  I  am  going  I"  said  she,  joining  the  gronp, 
and  coming  to  Mannaduke's  right  hand.  "The 
lake  here  is  beautiful  at  night,  Mr.  Yescej,  and 
you  have  never  seen  it.  'Tis  worth  while  to  go 
down  there  for  once." 

Marmaduke  referred  to  Agnes,  and  as  she 
would  not  encounter  the  dews  on  the  long  grass, 
he  said  he  would  see  the  lake  by  and  bye ;  and 
the  damsel  reluctantly  allowed  James  Lennox  to 
be  her  escort.  About  a  quarter  of  an  hour  after, 
Agnes  having  returned  indoors,  the  Sergeant  and 
Mona  made  their  Avay  down  the  steps  from  the 
terrace,  to  that  part  of  the  pleasure-grounds  where 
the  lake  was.  At  the  moment  Alicia  espied  them 
coming,  she  gave  a  frightened  little  scream, 
slipped,  and  fell.  She  was  close  by  the  water's 
edge,  and  Mona  cried  out,  but  was  composed  when 
she  saw  she  had  only  fallen  on  the  turf.  Tristan 
and  James  Lennox  were  tiying  to  help  her  up,  but 
she  moaned  gently  as  the  othSrs  came,  close,  and 
said,  with  such  a  pretty,  piteous  air  "  'Tis  my  foot. 
I  have  hurt  it.     I'm  sure  I  can  not  walk." 

"Let  me  carry  you,  Alicia?"  said  James, 
eagerly.  How  proud,  how  delighted  would  he 
have  been  of  the  office.  Gladly  would  he  have 
knelt  down  to  kiss  the  little  maimed  member,  but 
ehe  repulsed  his  enthusiasm  impatiently. 


IIAWKSVIEW.  321 

"Cany  rae!  such  nonsense!  as  if  you  conld. 
I'm  a  great  weight,"  moaned  she,  with  a  soft, 
pleading  look  upward  to  where  Marmaduke 
stood. 

"Take  Jim's  arm  on  one  side  and  mine  on  the 
other,  and  try  to  hop  on  the  sound  foot,"  sug- 
gested Tristan.    "You  can  manage  it  if  you  try." 

"  Leave  me  where  I  am !"  gasped  Alicia,  in 
despair.  "  Hop  !  did  you  ever  see  me  hop  ?  'Tis 
ridiculous !" 

Marmaduke  Vescey's  countenance  expressed 
concern  struggling  with  mirth  ;  he  did  not  in  the 
least  know  what  he  was  expected  to  do.  James 
Lennox  was  a  stalwart  young  Scotchman,  quite 
capable  of  carrying  a  brace  of  Alicia's ;  and  if  the 
3'oung  lady  declined  her  cousin's  kind  offices,  was 
it  for  a  modest  gentleman  like  himself  to  suppose 
she  would  accept  his  ?  "  Which  fool  is  it  ?"  asked 
he,  mildly. 

"  The  right  foot,"^-eplied  Mistress  Alicia,  beam- 
ing thankfulness  upon  him  from  a  pair  of  eyes 
lustrous  wnth  tears. 

"  Alicia,  dear,  if  you  cannot  walk,  and  will  not 
let  anybody  carry  you,  what  is  to  be  done?"  said 
straightforward  Mona. 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  know!"  and  the  pretty  face 
drooped.   'Twas  really  a  most  pathetic  and  touch- 
ing scene — dangerous,  too. 
14* 


322  IIAWKSTIEW. 

"  I'll  tell  jou  what,"'  cried  Tri&tan,  who  was  a 
young  gentleman  of  plain  and  practical  resources, 
"  ril  run  up  to  the  house  and  make  some  of  the 
men  bring  down  a  mattress — then  you  can  be 
carried  comfortably." 

Alicia  absolutely  shuddered,  and  cried  "  Stop !" 
■with  remarkable  vigor,  as  he  was  running  oflf  to 
execute  his  design.  "Stop!  Tristan,  how  can 
you  think  of  frightening  mamma  in  that  way  ? 
If  somebody  will  help  me  to  rise,  perhaps  I  could 
walk  now." 

Marmaduke  Vesccy  would  never  have  been  so 
ill-natured  as  to  interfere  witli  the  prerogative  of 
an}'  young  gentleman  in  the  circumstances  of 
James  Lennox,  so  he  did  not  lend  a  finger  to  set 
Mistress  Alicia  on  her  feet,  neither  did  he  4)res8 
himself  into  her  service  to  lead  her  home.  She 
went  oflf  supported  by  James  and  Tri^an,  looking 
very  interesting,  and  walking  not  at  all  ungrace- 
fully, considering  the  spraiijpd  foot,  which,  to 
be  candid  with  the  reader,  was  not  sprained  at 
all.  She  danced  upon  it  very  agilely  the  next 
day. 

Marmaduke  and  Mona  did  not  stay  behind. 
They  looked  at  the  lake,  MJiicli  was,  indeed,  the 
centre  of  a  lovely  night  landscape,  and  then  fol- 
lowed slowly  in  the  wake  C)f  Alicia's  procession. 

"  You  will  come  down  into  Astondale,  soon, 


HAWK8VIEW.  323 

will  yon  not?"  Mona  asked,  as  tlieir  conversation 
verged  again  in  tliat  direction. 

"  I  hope  so.  I  must  see  my  uncle  Loftus,  soon. 
I  leave  here  the  day  after  to-morrow.  Do  you 
remain  much  longer?" 

"  I  think  we  shall  stay  a  month ;  and  then 
it  will  be  papa's  turn  to  go  into  residence  at 
Borcham-cum- Minster.  It  will  be  the  end  of 
November  before  we  get  back  to  Boscombe." 

"  I  shall  be  in  London  again  before  you  leave 
Casile  Bohun.     I  hope  we  shall  meet." 

"  We  often  go  up  to  town  for  a  day  or  two, 
when  we  are  with  grandpapa,"  replied  Mistress 
Mona,  who  liad  the  same  wish  as  himself. 

Alicia  caused  her  escort  to  pause  until  Mona 
and'  the  Sergeant  drew  near,  and  then  asked, 
significantly,  "  What  are  you  two  so  exclusive  and 
unsociable**for  ?  'Tis  impossible  to  get  a  word 
from  either  of  you  ?" 

Mona  felt  as  annoyed  and  uncomfortable  as  her 
cousin  intended  she  should  do  ;  but  Marmaduke 
Yescey  replied  witli  prompt  self-possession,  "  We 
are  each  other's  oldest  friends,  Miss  Bohun.  We 
have  not  to  begin  our  acquaintance  to-day,  but 
only  to  renew  it." 

Alicia  went  on  rather  pleased.  Cousin  Mona 
had  displaced  her  brother  Tristan  and  taken  his 
place,  and  the  two  groups  were  united  until  they 


324  HAWKSVIEW. 

reached  the  house,  when  the  yonng  coquette  was 
eummarilj  put  under  nurse  Beste's  care,  and 
dismissed  to  bed,  and  Koger  Boliun  claimed  the 
Sergeant  for  a  little  conversation  himself. 


HAWKSVIEW.  325 


CHAPTER  YI. 

Mariviaduke  Yescet  got  his  commission,  con- 
trary to  his  expectation.  He  received  his  medal, 
with  clasps  for  each  action  in  "which  he  had 
been  engaged,  and  his  cross  for  distinguished 
valor;  but  by  the  time  he  had  received  these 
merited  rewards,  he  had  begun  to  value  them 
less  for  themselves  than  for  the  honor  they 
might  win  him  in  Mistress  Mona  Bohun's  eyes. 
His  uncle  Loftus,  just  two  days  before  Marma- 
dnke's  arrival  in  England,  in  despair  of  ever 
beholding  his  nephew  again,  had  pepetrated  one 
of  those  foolish  marriages  which  elderly  men, 
with  a  view  to  securing  a  nnrse  for  their  dotage, 
sometimes  allow  themselves  to  be  inveigled. 
When  the  young  man  arrived  in  Scotland,  he 
found  a  buxom  housekeeper  installed  at  the  head 
of  his  relative's  table,  who  gave  him  to  under- 
stand that  he  need  have  no  expectations  in  that 
quarter  now — her  own  children,  by  a  former  mar- 
riage, would  be  the  old  man's  heirs.     Mr.  Loftus 


4?' 


326  HAWK8VIEW. 

was  evidently  under  the  thumb  of  his  wife,  and 
dared  do  nothing  -without  her  cognizance,  and 
Marmaduke  took  his  leave  of  his  uncle  with  un- 
deniable feelings  of  disappointment,  and  proceeded 
to  Ilawksview. 

Tlie  Boliun's  were  not  then  at  Boscombe  ;  but 
Miss  Sage  Booty  was  at  Moat,  and  as  soon  as  she 
heard  of  his  arrival  in  tlie  dale,  she  sent  otf  a 
special  messenger,  desiring  him  to  make  her  house 
his  home  during  his  stay — an  invitation  which  he 
was  glad  to  accept,  for  though  Osythe  Dobbie 
had  professed  to  keep  Ilawksview  cottage  in  order, 
it  had  a  miserably  desolate  and  haunted  aspect. 
For  a  lady  who  had  had  small  experience,  if  any, 
in  the  working  of  the  tender  passion.  Miss  Sage 
Booty  was  wonderfully  quick-sighted  to  its  symp- 
toms in  other,  and  wlien  Marmadukc  Yescey 
regaled  her  ears  daily  with  remarks  on  Mona's 
graces  and  virtues,  she  knew  very  well  whither 
the  brave  gentleman's  tlioughts  tended,  and  as 
she  liked  him  exceedingly,  she  gave  him  all  the 
encouragement  in  her  power.  But  Marmadukc 
knew  well  that  his  means  as  an  otticer  in  the 
army,  without  private  fortune  to  purchase  his 
stojjs,  and  without  any  even  remote  expectations 
fur  the  future,  were  sucli  as  prudent  parents 
miglit  well  decline  to  let  a  daughter  share,  llis 
uncle  Loftiis's  foolish  marriage  had  quite  cropped 


HA-VVK8VIEW.  327 

down  his  blooming  hopes.  The  war  being  ended, 
the  field  of  quick  promotion  was  closed  against 
him  jnst  when  a  prize  worth  winning  rose  witliin 
his  view.  Under  these  circumstances  it  would 
have  been  discreet  in  Marmadnke  Vescev  to 
have  avoided  the  fascinating  presence  of  Mistress 
Mona ;  but  his  discretion  was  not  of  that  w^ell- 
balanced  nature,  and  failed  him  in  time  of  temp- 
tation. 

As  luck  would  have  it,  the  regiment  which  he 
had  joined  was  stationed  at  Boreham-cum-Minster 
while  Roger  Bohun  was  in  residence  there  with 
his  family,  so  it  naturally  ensued  that,  having  at 
first  no  acquaintance  in  the  town  besides,  he 
should  be  found  more  frequently  than  was  con- 
sistent in  the  drawing-room  of  the  canon's  house. 
Agnes  always  gave  him  a  kind  reception,  and 
Mona  was  pleased  to  blush  him  a  welcome  when- 
ever he  came.  Roger  also  extended  to  him  a 
generous  hospitality  as  to  a  friend  and  habitue  of 
the  family.  What  followed  ?  Exactly  the  conse- 
quences to  be  expected.  Eyes  had  exchanged 
signs  and  meanings  before  ;  but  one  evening — it 
was  in  an  October  twilight,  in  the  Old  Residence 
garden — Marmaduke  Vescey  spake,  and  Mona 
j'esponded.  They  loved  each  other,  and  none 
else.  Both  looked  so  happy  and  exalted  when 
they  re-entered  the  drawing-room  to  Agnes,  after 


328  HAWKS  VIEW. 

• 

the  mutual  confession,  that  the  mother  imme- 
diately divined  -svhat  had  happened.  Tliey  made 
her  their  couiidante,  and  she  was  to  speak  to  the 
canon. 

It  was  very  strange ;  but  Roger  professed  to 
be  surprised.  He  had  been  wrapped  up  in  the 
proofs  of  the  celebrated  work  before-named,  and 
had  never  suspected  what  v^as  going  on  in  liis 
daughter's  mind.  "  My  dear  Agnes,"  said  he  in  a 
remonstrative  tone,  "  I  like  Marmaduke  Vescey, 
and  I  wish  to  see  our  girl  happy  ;  but  what  could 
they  live  on  if  they  were  married  ?" 

We  were  very  poor  ourselves,  Roger;  but  how 
happy  we  were!"  replied  Agnes.  "Mona  will 
never  form  another  attachment.  They  seem  to 
me  to  have  been  born  for  each  other.  'Tis 
delightful  to  see  them  togetlier.  Look  at  them 
now." 

It  was  scarcely  justifiable  in  those  married 
lovers  to  spy  out  of  the  library  window,  as  they 
did,  at  that  otlier  couple  sauntering  about  in  the 
late  autumn  morning  so  anxiously  contented,  so 
foolishly  happy,  wliile  their  fate  was  being  dis- 
cussed by  the  elders.  Roger  turned  to  his  wife 
and  kissed  her  still  blooi:iing  cheeks,  for  that 
little  vignette  under  tlie  brown  beech-trees  of  the 
fading  garden  revived  his  own  courting  days, 
Agnes  clasped  her  hands  about  his  arm,  and  the 


IIAWKSVIEW.  329 

tears  came  into  her  fond  eyes  as  she  said,  "You 
will  consent,  Roger." 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  I  must.  I  have  no  right  to 
sever  two  who  seem,  as  you  say,  '  born  for  each 
other,'  "  was  the  reply. 

"Then  let  us  go  and  tell  them — " 

"My  love,  I  think  they  can  dispense  with  onr 
company  for  a  little  while.  They  seem  very  well 
satisfied  with  each  other." 

Marmaduke  Yescey  and  Mona  Bouun  were 
married,  and  they  are  happy,  though  their  pros- 
pects are  by  no  means  sublime.  Mr.  Loftus,  by 
a  violent  exercise  of  his  independence,  contrived 
to  give  his  nephew  live  thousand  pounds,  and 
Miss  Sage  Booty  bestowed  upon  her  favorite 
another  thousand,  being  an  advance  of  half  of 
the  sura  the  old  lady  had  given  her  in  her  will. 

Mistress  Alicia,  who  has  coqueted  herself  into 
coronet,  and  is  the  purchased  property  of  a  gen- 
tleman as  old  as  her  grandpapa,  laughs  at  her 
cousin  Mona's  unambitious  marriage  ;  but  Mona's 
life  is  complete  and  happy  ;  and  Lady  AMcia's  ! 
no  one  can  say  in  what  slough  it  may  issue ! 
She  is  beautiful,  thoughtless,  and  intriguing — her 
cold  heart  keeps  her  from  being  miserable,  and 
may  keep  her  from  being  wicked ;  but  her  lord 
lives  in  a  fog  of  jealous  suspicion,  and  inclines  to 


3-jO  iiawksvtkw. 

become  tyrannical,     ^^oe  betide  liim  if  he  drives 
lier  past  lier  patience  !     She  is  childless. 

Marniadnke  and  Mona  have  one  son,  in  whom 
and  in  iiis  latlicr  the  fair  repnte  of  Vescey  of 
Ilawksview  may  yet  revive  again.  The  old  cot- 
tage on  the  hill  has  been  taken  down  and  rebuilt 
in  less  haunted  stjde.  It  is  leased  now  to  a 
tenant ;  but  Marinaduke  looks  to  it  as  his  future 
retirement  when  his  days  of  service  are  over. 
That  will  not  be  until  our  century  is  almost 
gone. 


unis. 


AGAINST  WIND  AND  TIDE. 

BY    HOLME    LEE, 

AUTHOR    OF* 

"  Ha^wlisview,"  "Sylvan  Holt's  Daiagliter,"  etc.,  etc. 
One  Vol.  12mo.,  440  Pages,  Cloth,  Price  $1.00, 


"Against  "Wind  and  Tide"  has  just  been  reprinted  from  the  London 
edition,  and  comes  to  us  endorsed  by  the  highest  literary  authorities 
of  Engkmd.  The  leading  journals  of  America  have  been  unanimous 
in  its  praise,  and  we  herewith  append  a  lengthy  review  from  the  New 
Torh  Albion,  -whose  literary  criticisms  are  known  both  for  their  inde- 
pendence and  acumen. 

NEW    BOOKS. 

Among  the  very  lest  novels  of  the  dap  we  place  AoArsrsx  Wind  and 
Tide,  iy  Holme  Lee,  ichich  has  Men  reprinted  here  hy  W.  A.  Townsexd 
&  Co.  The  story  is  one  of  great  interest,  though  not  marked  by  many 
striking  incidents.  JEventful  it  is,  like  that  of  many  lives  around  us, 
but  not  strange.  Indeed,  there  is  not  an  incident,  a  situation,  or  a 
character  in  the  whole  hooJc  tchich  might  not  have  heen  taTcen  from 
actual  life  ;  and  yet  thereader''s  attention,  if  not  his  solicitude,  for  the 
personages  brought  before  him  does  not  diminish  ttntil  they  all  j>ass 
out  of  his  sight.  There  are,  so  to  speak,  two  heroes,  the  illegitimste 
twin  sons  of  Sir  Philip  Nugent,  a  wealthy  baronet,  a  gentleman  of 
great  accomplishments  and  attractive  person,  who,  separated  from  Jiis 
wife  by  her  misconduct,  loves,  wins,  and  marries  Mary  Hawthorne,  the 
beautiful  daughter  of  a  farmer  of  the  highest  class.  He  means  no  be- 
trayal of  her;  but  on  the  discovery  of  his  existing  nominal  marriage 
ties,  she  leaves  him,  returns  to  lier  father's  house,  brings  up  the  boys 
who  are  born  there  in  sorrow,  and  dies,  just  as  Sir  Philip,  set  free 'by 
the  death  of  his  wife,  returns  to  claim  her  as  his  own.  The  boys  are 
types  of  character.  One,  Cyrus,  has  genius,  lively  sympathies,  and  a 
proud  spirit,  but  he  is  vacillating  in  purpose,  and  witliout  fixed  prin- 
ciples :  egotistic,  too,  almost  to  selfishness.  The  other,  Robert,  is  of  a 
quiet,  steady  disposition,  of  excellent  sense  and  sound  judgment,  a 
warm  heart,  but  a  determined  will :  a  noble,  self-devoted,  though  not 
a  shining  character.  He  loves  and  almost  worships  his  brilliant 
brother.     Sir  Philip  loves  the  boys  and  would  acknowledge  them  botli. 


and  give  them  his  name.  But  Robert,  in  pnrruance  of  a  plan  of  life, 
adopted  before  he  ever  saw  his  father,  enters  trade  under  his  mother's 
maiden  name,  which  he  retains  througli  life,  becomes  the  head  of  liis 
tirm.  marries  in  his  own  rank  of  life,  loses  his  wife  early,  and  passes 
the  remainder  of  his  days  in  acts  of  beiievolenco.  Cyrus  goes  with 
his  fiMher,  adopts  the  family  name,  altiiougli  he  can  hope  to  inherit  but 
p;irt  of  tlie  family  estates,  some  of  which  are  entailed,  loves  a  girl  in 
the  class  of  life  in  which  he  moves,  and  is  loved  by  her  in  turn  with 
all  tlie  alfection  of  which  a  light  and  worldly  nature  is  capable,  loses  her 
l)y  the  masterly  mananivres  of  her  scheming,  heartless  mother,  to  see 
her  shortly  after  marry  his  father,  becomes  a  man  of  letters  and  a 
journalist,  and  leads  a  checjuered  life,  the  gloom  on  which,  however, 
gradually  dee|)ens  until  he  is  brought  to  the  verge  of  starvation,  and 
to  actual  febrile  insanity  by  his  privations.  In  this  condition,  his 
brother,  whose  afliection  has  never  swerved,  and  his  father,  whom  he 
has  alienated  in  spite  of  his  deep  love  for  him,  are  summoned  to  him; 
and  the  latter  carrying  away  from  his  lodgings  a  small  writing-desk, 
discovers  on  opening  it  the  letter  which  his  own  wife  wrote  to  his  son 
rejecting  his  hand  in  favor  of  his  father's,  and  thus  starting  him  on  the 
course  of  life  which  promises  to  end  so  sadly.  The  consequence  is, 
that  Lady  Nugent  finds  Sir  Philip  sitting  sijceciiless  and  paralytic,  with 
lier  letter  to  his  son  open  in  his  hand.  The  father  never  recovers,  but 
the  son  does.  He  and  his  brother  iidierit  two  of  the  baronet's  unen- 
tailed estates,  and  he  marries  a  cliarming  girl  who  has  given  hiin 
unasked  a  love  which  he  does  not  really  deserve;  and  his  step-motlier, 
tlie  only  woman  whom  he  has  ever  really  loved,  marries  again  into  a 
still  higher  rank  of  aristocratic  life. 

Uere  is  no  poetical  justice,  no  following  of  the  fortunes  of  a  single 
person  until  he  meets  the  fate  or  the  reward  which  should  be  his  ac- 
cording to  the  eternal  fitness  of  things.  Nothing  of  the  kind.  The 
tale  has  not  even  any  symmetry,  or  proportion,  or  leading  purpose. 
It  aims  at  none.  It  is  full  of  cjtisode,  or  ratlicr  it  is  a  succession  of 
e[)isodes,  bound  together  by  a  tliread  of  common  interest.  In  fact,  it 
is  merely  a  picture  of  real  life,  of  men  and  women  as  tliey  are,  not  as 
they  ought  to  be;  there  is  not  even  an  ideal  villain  in  the  book.  The 
iutevesft  uhich  it  aicakens  is  consequent  wpon  itsextreme  truthfulness  both 
as  to  the  external  and  internal  life  of  its  characters^  in  which,  in  oj;i£ 

.irUGMKNT,  IT    IS  UNSURPASSKD  BY  ANY  NOVEL   THAT   HAS  APPEAKKD  FOK 

KKviuAi,  YEARS  HACK.  The  scenes  in  which  the  characters  move  are 
porlr.iyed  so  vividly,  that  we  seem  to  be  living  with  them,  breathing 
the  air  that  they  breathe,  seeing  the  same  hills  and  plains  and  streams, 
and  the  same  houses  the  sight  of  which  forms  a  part  of  their  daily  life; 
their  very  household  gods,  the  cherished  mementos,  and  the  beloved 
nooks  and  corners  of  their  homes  come  up  bef<u'e  us.  Yet  they  are 
not  catalogued  and  described,  else,  indeed,  we  should  turn  the  page 
rai)idly,  and  remember  no  more  of  them  than  we  do  of  the  furnished 
Linises  of  which  wo  sometimes  read  the  auctioneer's  advertisements. 
The  author  sees  all  that  he,  or  rather  she  (for  we  have  heard   that 


ITolme  Lee  is  a  -woman)  describes  in  her  own  mind's  eye,  and  has  tlio 
faculty  of  lending  us  lier  vision. 

But  it  is  chiefly,  of  course,  for  its  pictures  of  society  and  of  cliararler 
that  this  hook  is  to  be  admlnd.  A  tale,  the  incidents  of  tchich  are  so 
little  out  of  the  common,  is  not  to  ie  saved  from  dullness  hi/  the  bent 
landscape  or  interior  painting.  And  in  these  jjoints — knowledqe  of 
the  icorld  and  insight  into  character — "Against  Wind  and  Tide  "  Vs 
remarkable  even  in  this  day  of  close  ohscrration  and  narrow  intro- 
spection. In  the  first  regard,  knowledge  of  the  world,  the  keeping  of 
the  book  is  quite  wonderful.  The  variety  of  scenes  and  characters, 
of  classes  of  society,  and  of  those  subdivisions  of  classes  called  "sets," 
Avhich  it  portrays,  is  very  unusual:  and  yet  we  cannot  recall  a  sinu'le 
incident,  or  character  which  is  either  tame  or  exaggerated,  or  which 
for  the  sake  of  a  temporary  effect  is  brought  into  undue  relief.  In 
fact,  every  page  of  the  book  exhibits  tliorough  knowknlge  and  the 
quietness  of  conscious  power.  The  range  of  observation  which  it  shows 
is  very  noticable,  and  is  almost  inconsistent  with  the  reports  as  to  the 
sex  of  its  author.  We  can  understand  how  it  is  that  a  woman  can 
know  all  about  society  both  high  and  low,  and  how,  if  she  have  genius 
and  the  power  of  observation,  she  may  even  fathom  the  deptiis  of 
man's  heart  and  lay  bare  his  hidden  motives ;  but  what  sliould  a 
woman  know  of  a  mass  meeting  of  mill  operatives,  which  finally  be- 
comes a  mob  !  What  of  the  secret  management  and  editorial  routine 
of  a  daily  London  newspaper!  But  all  this  knoioledge,  and  more, 
equally  unioomanlike,  the  author  of  '■^Against  Wind  and  Tide"'  shows, 
and  shows  it,  too,  toithout  the  slightest  indication  of  having  '■'■crammed'''' 
for  it.  The  description  of  the  strike,  and  the  meeting  and  mob  which 
grew  out  of  it  is  as  true,  as  vigorous,  and  as  spirited,  though  nut  as 
melodramatic,  as  Victor  Hugo's  description  of  the  French  mob  in  the 
"Hunchback  of  Notre  Dame."  It  is.  finally,  however,  in  the  inner 
life  of  the  characters  that  the  chief  interest  of  the  book  is  to  he  f omul. 
This  is  exhibited  with  a  knowledge  so  subtle  and  profound,  it  is  ex- 
posed with  a  hand  so  steady  and  so  unflinching,  that,  were  it  not  for 
the  fullness  and  warmth  of  human  sympathy  which  pervades  the  book, 
we  should  place  its  aiichor  among  the  cynics  of  the  day,  whose  style 
and  tone  has  been  brought  into  vogue  by  a  great  master.  But  tlierc 
iithis  diti'erence  between  a  book  like  "Against  Wind  and  Tide,"  and  one 
IiKe  "Vanity  Fair,"  (aside  from  any  difference  in  degreeof  ability  that 
may  be  insisted  on),  that  the  one,  though  it  exhibits  men  and  women  no 
less  than  the  other  just  as  they  are,  in  all  their  weakness  of  will  and 
strength  of  passion,  their  littleness  and  their  selfishness,  showing  how 
they  are  the  willing  playthings  of  circumstances,  and  not  moral  lieroes, 
moulding  circum«tances,  and  ruling  their  own  spirits, — though  it  sliows 
this,  it  does  not  leave  that  impression  of  hopelessness,  of  utter  and  iu- 
lierent  degradation  which  the  works  of  the  eminent  satirist  of  tlie  day 
are  apt  to  produce.  It  has  many  sad,  and  some  gloomy,  and  one  or 
two  despairing  passages,  but  not  a  single  morbid  one;  and  we  lay  it 
down  with  tlie  feeling  that  although,  as  in  real  life,  not  every  one  of 


its  characters  has  received  his  or  her  deserts,  in  the  material  rewards 
of  life,  yet  that  it  is  wortli  while  to  live,  that  there  is  some  goodness 
extant,  and  the  germ  of  it  in  all  hnman  breasts,  and  that  althongh 
"most  friendship  is  feigning,  most  loving  mere  folly,"  all  is  not  so. 

The  list  of  dramatis  personce  in  vnnsuiiUi/  rich  and  varied,  and  the 
portraits  arc  painted  xcith  rare  strength  of  characterization  and  fidelity 
to  nature.  True,  the  people  themselves  are  not  in  all  cases  such  as 
elicit  our  regard,  our  resjject,  or  even  an  admiration  which  may  exist 
withdut  eitiier  regard  or  respect.  But  is  it  not  so  in  the  world  of 
which  this  book  attempts  to  be  in  part  a  faithful  mirror?  Surely. 
S(;  also  tliese  characters  come  and  go,  apjjcaring  for  a  short  time,  and 
then  vanisiiing,  and  ])erliaps  reai)pearing  long  after,  just  as  the  people 
whom  we  have  encountered  tiit  back  and  fortli  across  our  patlis  (if 
life.  Tiie  female  list  of  cluiracters  is  mucli  longerand  more  diversified 
tlum  the  mule,  and  the  traits  of  these  are  ])ortrayed  with  a  ligliter  and 
more  certain  touch: — which  goes  to  alhrni  the  assertion  that  tiie 
author  is  a  woman;  for  this  character-painting  is  plainly  from  know- 
ledge acquired  by  reflection  as  well  as  close  observation. —  There  are 
passages  of  simple  and  touching  pathos  in  this  stoi-y,  some  of  almost 
tragic  interest,  few  of  any  remarlkahle  lightness  or  vivacitij,  but  several 
which  in  their  exposition  of  the  mingled  motives,  the  crossing  purposes, 
and  unexpected  antagonisms  uhich  infuence  human  action,  are  unsur- 
passed in  tke  works  of  any  novel  writer  of  the  day — we  do  not  except 
JJulwer  or  Thackeray.  We  Commend  the  Book  nEAKTii.Y  to  the 
Favok  of  opR  Keadehs. 

From  the  Philadelphia  Xorth  American. 

"This  is  one  of  the  best  novels  of  the  season.  The  author  shows  an 
extended  knowledge  of  the  world,  a  keen  appreciation  of  character, 
and  a  lar^e  compass  of  expression.  The  plot  is  well  conceived  ai.d 
natural!y"deve]oi)cd;  the  diction,  with  some  exceptions,  is  pure  and 
vigorous;  tiie  ideas  are  always  sensible,  often  graceful,  and  sometimes 
informed  witii  tlie  inmost  soul  of  poetry;  and  tlie  scenes  and  occur- 
rences all  seem  natural,  while  some  of  them  are  truly  and  touchingly 
pathetic.  AVe  do  not  envy  the  sensibilities  of  tlie  man  to  whose  eyes 
tlie  j)erusal  of  some  of  these  pages  would  not  bring  a  dewy  dimness — 
the  liappy,  healthful  sympathy  with  sorrow," 

From,  the  Springfield  Republican.  * 

"It  has  .ill  the  strength  and  power  of  'Adam  Bede,'  witli  the  refine- 
ment and  grace  which  that  book  lacks." 

From  the  Philadelphia  Press. 
"The  author  writes  with  spirit  and  force,  and  never  lets  the  interest 
of  the  story  flag." 

One  vol.,  12mo.,  cloth.  440  pages.  Price  %\.  Mailed,  post-free, 
on  receipt  of  price. 

IV.   A.  TOWNSKND  tc  CO.,  Piiblinliera, 

No.    1«  %Vnlkor  S<ro«'l,  JV.  Y 


THE  PUBLICATIONS 


OF 


W.  A.  TowNSEND  &  Company, 

No.  46  Walker  Street^  New  Tork. 


The  Works  of 

James  Fenimore  Cooper. 


LIBRARY  EDITION.— Complete  in  thirty-four  volumes,  izmo. 
Embracing : 

Precaution.  The  Bravo.  Afloat  and  Ashore. 

The  Spy.  The  Heidenmauer.  Miles  Wallingford. 

The  Pioneers.  The  Headsman.  The  Chainbearer. 

The  Pilot.  The  Monikins.  Satanstoe. 

Lionel  Lincoln.  Homeward  Bound.  The  Red  Skins. 

Last  of  the  Slohicans.  Home  as  Found.  The  Crater. 

Red  Rover.  The  Pathfinder.  Jack  Tier. 

The  Prairie.  Mercedes  of  Castile.  The  Sea  Lions. 

Travelling  Bachelor.  The  Deerslayer.  Oak  Openings. 

Wept  of  Wish-ton- Wish.  The  Two  Admirals.  The  AVays  of  the  Hour. 

The  Water  Witch.  Wing  and  Wing.  Ned  Meyera. 
Wyandotte. 

STYLES  AND  PRICES. 

Embossed  muslin,  per  vol.  (each  work  furnished  separately),     .        .        .  $  1  00 

Embossed  muslin,  the  complete  set,  34  vols., 34  00 

Sheep,  library  style,  marble  edges,  sup.  finish 40  00 

Half  calf  or  half  turkey,  plain, 55  00 

Half  calf,  extra,  full  gilt  backs,  or  half  calf  antique 60  00 

Superb  calf,  or  turkey,  extra,  gilt  edges,      .        .        .        ,        »        .        .  75  00 


THE   PUBLICATIONS   OF 


DARLEY'S   ILLUSTRATED   EDITION,  with  Illustrations  on 
Steel  and  Wood,  from  designs  by  F.  O.  C.  Darley. 

Crown  octavo,  on   tinted  paper,  embossed  cloth,  w'th  bevelled   edges, 

per  volume, ^  ,        .        .        .  f  1  50 

This  beautiful  Edition  of  Cooper's  Novels  was  commenced  February  1st,  tS59, 
»nd  will  be  completed  in  tuirtt-two  months  from  that  date— a  volume,  contain- 
ing a  novel  complete,  being  published  on  the  first  of  each  month.  The  volumes 
are  uniform  in  size  and  binding,  and  each  contains  two  kkgravixus  ok  8  f.ki 
and  twelve  sketches  os  wood,  designed  by  Darlst  expressly  for  tliii  Edition, 
and  engraved  by  the  first  artists  of  the  country. 


XOW  READY  {April,  1S60). 


The  Pioneers. 
The  Red  Rover. 
Last  of  the  Mohicans. 
The  Spy. 
Wyandotte. 


The  Bravo. 

The  Pilot. 

AVept  of  Wish-ton-Wish. 

The  Headsman. 

The  Prairie. 

Lionel  Lincoln. 


The  Sea  Lions. 
The  Water  Witch. 
Homeward  Bound. 
The  Monikint. 
Satanstoe. 


VOLUMES  J2r  PRESS. 
Home  as  Found.  Jack  Tier.  Miles  WallJngford. 

The  Pathfinder.  Oak  Openings.  The  Crater. 

The  Chainbearer.  The  Two  Admirals.  Wa.vs  of  the  Hour. 

Wing-and-M'ing.  Beidcnmaucr.  Deenlayer. 

The  Red  Skins.  Mercedes  of  Ca-stile.  Precaution. 

Afloat  and  Ashore. 
%•  A  Portrait  of  Mr.  Cooper,  engraved  expressly  from  an  original  painting  bj 

Elliott,  and  a  view  of  the  new  Coopentown  Monument,  will  be  Included  in  the 

Series. 

THE    TRAVELER'S    EDITION. 

Neat  ICmo.,  uniformly  bound  in  flexible  covers,  per  vol.,    .        .        .        .  f 0  75 

We  are  now  issuing  an  edition  of  Cooper's  Novels,  on  fine  paper,  sized  and 
calendered,  and  bound  in  fancy  cloth,  flexible,  with  printed  titles,  clc,  on  sides 
and  back;  which,  on  account  of  the  neat,  convenient  an<l  portable  size  of  the 
volumes — particularly  adapted  for  "  railway  reading  "—we  have  styled  "  Tint 
Traveler's  Editios."  Ten  volumes  are  now  ready  (March,  1860);  others  will 
follow  in  rapid  succession. 


COOPER'S  LEATHER   STOCKING   TALES,  Comprising 


Deerslayer, 


Prairie, 


.Mohicans, 


Plonetrs, 


Pathfinder. 


Five  elegant  volume.^,  neatly  bound  In  embossed  cloth. 
Extra  sheep,  library  style,  marble  edgei, 

Half  calf,  or  half  turkey, 

Half  calf  extra,  full  gilt  backs,  or  antique,    .        .        . 


15  0<» 
0  00 

8  00 

9  00 


n 


W.    A.    TOWNSEND    &    CO. 


COOPER'S    SEA    TALES,  Comprising: 


The  Pilot.  'VVing-and-Wing.  The  Crater. 

The  Red  Rover.  The  Water- Mitch.  Jack  Tier. 

The  Two  Admirals.  Afloat  and  Ashore.  The  Sea  Lions. 

Miles  Wallingford. 

Ten  volumes,  neatly  bound  in  embossed  cloth, $10  00 

Sheep,  extra,  marble  edges,  library  style,    .        .        .        .        .        .        .    12  00 

Half  calf,  or  half  turkey,  plain, 16  00 

Half  calf,  or  half  turkey  extra,  full  gilt  backs,  or  antique, .       .       .       .    18  OC 


NAVAL   HISTORY    OF    THE    UNITED    STATES.     By 
J.  Fenimore  Cooper. 

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,  "  With  much  of  the  terseness  and  vigor  of  'Adam  Bede,'  it  has  a  refinement 

which  we  do  not  find  in  that  very  clever  work,  and  a  combined  knowledge  of  the 
world  and  insight  into  character  which  renders  the  tale  startUngly  real  and  life- 
like."— London,  Literary  Gazette. 


HOUSEKEEPING  MADE  EASY :  A  Complete  Instructor  in 
all  Branches  of  Cookery  and  Domestic  Economy.  By 
Mrs.  Ellis. 

Containing  the  most  useful  and  approved  Recipes  of  Daily  Service  in  all 
Families.  Edited  by  Mrs.  Mowatt.  New  edition,  revised  and  enlarged,  with 
numerous  Illustrations. 

Paper, tO  23 


*^*  Any  Book  enumerated  in  this  Catalogue  zvill  be  mailed  to 
any  address  in  the  United  States^  post-free,  upon  receipt  of  tlic 
price  annexed. 


**^  gnv  3^mnlcatt  goitl  cf  ^nusiuiU  Jjutere^t/ 


LIFE  BEFORE  HIM, 

A  NOVEL  OF  AMERICAN  LIFE. 
One  Vol.  i2mo.,  Cloth,  401  Pages,  Price  $1.00. 


From  the  New  York  Observer. 
"Fresh,  lively,  and  vigoroua  in  its  style,  original  and  striking  in 
its  plot,  and  well  sustained  in  its  execution,  this  is  a  novel  of  more 
than  common  ability  and  merit.  Its  characters  are  drawn  with  great 
freedom  and  naturalness,  and  tho  story  keeps  up  the  reader's  interest, 
without  flagging,  from  the  beginning  to  the  end." 

From  the  Philadelphia  NorOi  American. 
"This  well-told  tale  is  simply  a  fine  illustration  of  tho  old  strugglo 
of  ambition  with  destiny,  art  with  hardship,  youth  with  fortune.     * 
♦         *         There  are  many  pages  tilled  wiih  charming  tliought, 
and  many  others  gushing  with  poetry  and  pathos." 

From  the  Home  Journal. 

"A  book  of  sinprular  originality  and  genius.  .  .  .  Its  style  is 
brisk,  fresh  and  vivid ;  its  characters  are  such  living  flesh -and-blood 
creations  as  to   flit  before  you,  not  like  unsubstantial  pageants,  but 

positive  entities The  whole  tone  and  temper  of  llie  book  is 

hearty  and  delightful^  and  tlie  views  of  life  the  most  pleasant  and  en- 
trancing we  ever  read.  Occasionally  the  autlior  steps  out  of  his  story 
to  address  the  reader,  and  then  his  humor  flashes;  he  is  fanciful,  brisk, 
and  fascinating." 

Froin  the  Boalon  Bte. 

"  There  are  indications  in  this  book,  of  genias ;  and  of  a  stamp  thnt  is 
fresh,  young,  bright  and  hopeful.  ♦  ♦  *  "We  have  not  taken 
in  Land  a  book  for  a  long  lime  which  has  so  pleased  ua." 

W.  A.  TOWNSEND  6c  Co.,  PnblUhcrs, 

4.0  AValker  Street,  N.  Y. 


-AuLL    ^BOUT    IT; 

OR, 

THE  HISTORY  AND  MYSTERY  OF  COMMON  THINGS. 

One  volume,  12mo.,  360  pp.     Price  $1. 
(Sent  by  mail  to  any  address,  on  receipt  of  the  price.) 


In  this  volume  is  condensed  a  vast  amount  of  information  upon  almost  every  sub- 
ject within  the  range  of  Art  and  Science,  or  in  relation  to  the  history  and  uses  of 
Natural  and  Artificial  Productions.  It  afifords  a  library  in  itself,  and  serves  to  post  tbo 
reader  in  those  thousand  matters  of  Fact  and  Information  so  necessary  to  every  person 
of  intelligence,  and  yet  so  inaccessible  to  ordinary  research. 

ITS    CONTENTS    EmBRACE 

ALL  ABOUT  Tea,  Coffee,  Cocoa,  ChocoUate,  and  other  Infusions. 

ALL  ABOUT  Tropical  and  Imported  Fruits,  their  manner  of  growth,  etc. 

ALL  ABOUT  Coal  and  its  formation,  Salt,  and  the  Salt  Mines. 

ALL  ABOUT  Leather  and  Tanning. 

ALL  ABOUT  Artificial  Light,  etc. 

ALL  ABOUT  Paper  and  Paper-making,  Papier  Mach6,  etc. 

ALL  ABOUT  Glass,  Porcelain,  Pottery,  China  Ware,  and  other  Wares. 

ALL  ABOUT  Textile  Fabrics,  Cotton,  Linen,  Wool,  and  Silk,  and  the  innumar- 

able  fabrics  into  which  they  are  woven. 
ALL  ABOUT  Cereals,  Grains,  Breadstuff's,  Bread  Fruit,  etc. 
ALL  ABOUT  Butter,  Cheese,  etc. 

ALL  ABOUT  Fermented  Liquors,  Wines,  Malt  Liquors,  etc. 
ALL  ABOUT  Medicines,  etc.     ABOUT  Spices,  etc. 
ALL  ABOUT  Metals,  Iron,  Copper,  Le.ad,  Tin,  etc.,  etc 
ALL  ABOUT  Minerals,  the  Precious  Stones,  etc.,  etc. 
ATT.  ABOUT  the  Atmosphere,  Electricity;  ABOUT  Geology;  ABOUT  Boots, 

Stems,  and  Leaves,  etc. 
ALL  ABOUT  Engravings,  Printing,  the  Arts  .ind  Sciences. 
ALL  ABOUT  Winds,  Waves,  Tides,  etc. 
ALL  ABOUT  a  Thousand  Miscellaneous  Subjects, 

INVALUABLE   FOE    CONVENIENT   EEFEKENCE. 

AGENTS  and  CANVASSERS  will  find  this  a  most  profitable  work  to  sell,  as  It 
Bupplies  a  want  felt  by  all  classes,  in  all  sections  of  the  country.  Full  particulars 
furnished  on  application  to  the  publishers, 

W.   A.   TO^VNSEi^D  &   CO., 

46  "WALKER  STREET,  NE"W  YORK. 


ELEGANTLY  ILLUSTRATED  EDITION 


OF 


COOPER'S    NOVELS 

T;wBT:T.T.TRKT:n  WITH  FIVE  HTJNDEED  OHIGINAL  DEA WINGS 
By  F.  O.  C.  DARLEY. 


This  beautiful  Edition  of  Cooper's  Works  was  commenced  February  1st, 
18r,y,  and  will  be  completed  in  THIRTY-TWO  MONTHS  from  that  date,  a 
Toliime  containing  a  novel  complete,  being  published  on  the  first  of  each 
month.  The  rolumes  are  uniform  in  size  and  binding,  and  each  contains 
Two  Engravings  on  Stekl,  and  Twklvk  SKETCHKa  os  Wood,  designed  by 
1)AKLEY,  expressly  for  this  edition,  and  engraved  by  the  First  Artists  or 

THB    CoLKTRT. 

THE    SERIES    EMBRACES: 


THE   PiOyEERS, 

RED    kOVEK, 

LAST  OF  THE  MOHICANS, 

THE   SPY, 

WYAXDOTTB, 

THE    UKAVO, 

THE   riLOT. 

WEPT  OK  WISH-TOX-WISU, 

THE    HEADSMAS, 

THE    PUAIKIE, 


LIONEL   LINCOLN, 
THE   SEA    LIONS, 
THE    WATEU    WITCH, 
HOMEWARD    BOUND, 
THE    MOSIKIXS, 
HOME   AS    FOUND, 
SATAXSTOE, 
WIXG    AXD    WING, 
THE    CHAIXUKAUER, 
THE    PATHFlXliEIl, 


JACK  TIER, 
THE    RED   SKINS, 
THE   TWO  ADMIRAUS, 
THE    HEIDEXMAl.EK, 
MERCEDES   OF   OASIILE, 
OAK     OPENINGS, 
AFLOAT    AXD    ASHORE, 
MILES    WALLINGFORD, 
THE   CRATER, 
THE  WAYS   OF  THE  HOUR, 


PRECAUTiON, 


THE    DEERSLAYER. 


The  first  Fifteen  Volumes  are  issued  in  the  above  order;  the  remainder 
will  follow  the  same  arrangement  as  nearly  as  possible.     As  a 

NAJTiryNAJ-i    ENTEKPRISK 

the  publication  of  this  edition  exceeds,  both  in  magnitude  and  importance, 
anv  tiling  of  the  kind  before  undertaken  in  this  country.  COOl'EK  has  been 
justly  x'.yled 

"THE    GBEAT    AMEKICAN    NOVELIST," 

and  the  Publishers  believe  they  have  not  mi.'<taken  the  tastes  of  his  countrr 
men  in  oU'enng  them  this  complete  and  elegant  edition  of  his  Works. 

rublishiii^  by  subscription,  iit  :fl  .")0  j)er  volum.e,  for  which  tliey  will  b* 
sent,  po;<t-paicl,  to  any  aildri,-ss  in  the  United  Stales,  under  ."5,01111  miles.  Tlie 
Work  can  be  obtiiiued  from  local  agents  (generally  the  principal  Bookseller!«| 
in  all  tli>-  liir-xe  cities. 

BOOKhELLKH.S  and  others  desiring  an  Agency  where  none  haa  bcei 
eatablitfhed,  can  ascertaiu  terms,  i^c,  by  addressing  the  Publishers. 

W.  A.  T0WN8END  &  Co.,  Publishers, 

No.  46  WAI.KEK  8TREKT.  N   T 


COOPER'S  WORKS. 


BARLEY'S  ILLUSTRATED  EDITION. 


OPINIONS     OF     THE     I»RESS. 


77(6  Boston  Tra/veller. 


"We  are  at  last  to  have  a  perfect  edition  of  Cooper's  noble  works,  one  which  his  inii^ 
titiulinous  admirers  will  not  be  ashamed  to  place  alonjrsidc  of  the  best  edition  of  Seoti 
The  publication  has  been  commenced  by  Messrs.  W.  A.  Townsend  ifc  Co.,  of  New 
York,  Well  known  for  liberality  and  enterprise,  and  who  can  be  depended  upon  to 
redeem  their  pledges  to  tlie  reading  world.  This  edition  will  consist  of  thirty-two 
volumes,  each  volume  to  contain  a  work  complete,  and  will  embrace  all  the  author's 
novels,  from  the  "The  Pioneers"  to  "The  Ways  of  the  Hour."  One  volume  will  bo 
published  on  the  first  day  of  every  month,  until  the  edition  shall  have  been  completed, 
commencing  February  1st,  1S59.  Nothing  h.as  been  left  undone  to  render  the  edition 
as  perfect  as  art,  enterprise,  and  liberal  expenditure  can  render  it.  The  typography  is 
of  the  most  elegant  description.  The  paper  is  of  the  very  first  class  of  that  manufac- 
ture, strong,  clean,  and  smooth  as  the  palm  of  a  lady's  hand.  The  binding  is  at  once 
durable  and  beautiful.  The  size  is  the  crown  octavo,  universally  allowed  to  be  the 
best  both  for  convenience  and  preservation.  The  illustrations,  which  will  be  five 
hundred  in  number,  will  all  be  designed  by  th.it  consummate  genius,  V.  O.  C.  Darley, 
who  will  be  thoroughly  at  home  on  the  pages  of  Cooper.  Sixty-four  of  the  illustr.i- 
tions  will  be  on  steel,  engraved  by  the  Smilies,  Alfred  Jones,  Dclnoce,  Burt,  Girsch 
Phillibrown,  Andrews,  Pease  and  Schoff.  Those  on  wood  will  be  the  work  of  leading 
artists,  among  whom  are  Edmonds,  Whitney,  the  Orrs,  Bobbett,  and  Anthony.  Thus 
much  for  the  externals  of  the  volumes.  In  other  respects  thoy  will  be  found  equally 
worthy  of  the  attention  of  tlie  public.  Each  volume  will  contain  the  last  corrections 
of  the  author,  and  will  on  that  account  alone  present  an  unrivalled  claim  to  superiority 
over  any  other  edition.  The  publication  opens  with  "  The  Pioneers,"  one  of  the  best 
of  the  author's  works,  as  it  was  one  of  the  earliest  of  them.  It  is  a  true  picture  of 
American  life  as  it  was  nearly  seventy  years  ago,  and  .as  it  is  now  on  the  remote  western 
frontiers  of  the  republic.  The  origin  of  Templeton,  and  the  manner  of  life  there,  aro 
things  familiar  to  thousands  of  Americans.  Perhaps  there  is  no  one  of  Cooper's  works 
that  is,  on  the  whole,  so  agreeable  as  the  "  Pioneers."  Tiie  scene  is  far  removed  from 
city  life,  most  of  the  characters  are  by  no  means  remarkable,  and  the  incidents  are  not 
often  "strong,"  yet  the  author  has  made  of  his  ordinary  materials  one  of  tlio  most 
attriictive  tales  in  the  language,  and  which  has  been  transUited  into  almost  every  lan- 
guage that  has  readers.  lie  takes  us  through  the  seasons  as  they  were  in  the  olden 
times,  opening  with  winter,  the  char.acterislics  of  which  in  our  climate  wore  never 
more  forcibly  drawn  than  they  are  in  tliis  most  rcad.ablc  of  novels;  while  those  of 
summer  and  spring  are  in  their  turn  described,  and  the  charms  of  autumn  are  brietly 
introduced.  "The  Pioneers"  is  the  first  of  those  of  Cooper's  works  th.at  have  been 
specifically  denominated  the  "  Leather  Stocking  Novels,"  and  which  have  be.'U  not  k-M 
popular  than  his  admirable  sea  stories.    N^iUy  Bumpoo  her*  first  appears,  not  In  the 


COOPERS    WORKS. 

order  of  his  life,  but  in  the  order  of  the  author's  creation.  Perhaps  Cooper's  famo 
depends  as  mucli  upon  this  one  character  as  upon  most  of  his  other  creations  com 
biuod.  He  h.is  made  the  most  of  him,  and  now  it  will  be  seen  that  Darlej-,  laboring  on 
this  shadowy  yot  real  being  iu  the  realms  of  romance,  has  given  him  a  new  title  to  gen- 
eral admiration.  We  Tenture  to  predict  that  this  edition  of  Cooper  will  be  eminently 
successfiil,  that  it  will  find  its  way  into  the  hands  of  every  person  of  taste,  and  that  n< 
library,  public  or  jirivatc,  can  afford  to  bo  without  it. 

The  Boston  Advertiser. 

"We  have  been  highly  gratified  with  the  examination  of  specimen  pages  of  a  new 
edition  of  Cooper's  Novels  and  Tales,  to  be  published  in  New  York  by  Messrs.  W.  A. 
Townsend  &  Co.,  with  illustrations  from  steel  pl.ites,  from  drawings  made  expressly  for 
the  work  by  Mr.  F.  O.  C."  Darley.  Mr.  Darley  is  excelled  by  no  artist  in  the  delicacy 
and  elegance  of  his  delineation  of  figures.  His  illustrations  of  Cooper's  works  have 
been,  as  we  understand,  a  "labor  of  love ''  with  him  for  a  long  period.  lie  thoroughly 
appreciates  the  author,  and  is  able  to  give  expression  to  the  true  spirit  of  his  works. 
If  we  are  not  mistaken.  Cooper  is  destined  to  be  still  more  popular  with  succeeding 
generations  than  he  was  with  hiscotcmpor.iries;  and  this  is  saying  a  great  deal,  lie  is 
Jhoroughly  American,  and  original;  he  gave  permanent  phice  in  literature  to  the  tra- 
ditions and  usages  of  a  people  who  have  now  almost  wholly  disappeared  from  the  con- 
tinent formerly  all  their  own.  His  "  Deersl.iyer  "  and  "Last  of  the  Mohicans,"  cannot 
possibly  be  imitated  with  success  by  any  future  writer.  They  must  always  reinaiii  the 
great  specimens  of  their  class  of  tales.  Cooper's  sea  stories  are  scarcely  less  remark- 
able. But  it  is  superfluous  to  speak  in  praise  of  the  value  or  interest  of  these  works. 
We  have  only  now  to  do  with  the  new  edition,  which  promises  to  be  a  fittinc  dress  for 
the  author's  text,  with  the  appropriate  ornaments  of  illustratioiL  We  predict  for  tho 
vork  a  large  and  permanent  sale. 

The  Providence  Journal. 

We  are  glad  at  last  to  call  attention  to  an  American  edition  of  Cofiper's  novels, 
■which  promises  to  be  an  honor  to  both  publisher  and  author.  It  will  contain  the  latest 
revisions,  will  be  printed  in  good  type  on  smooth  and  handsome  paper,  bound  in  richly 
ornamented  covers,  and  illustrated  by  Darley  with  drawings  on  wood,  and  steel  vig- 
nettes, executed  in  the  highest  style  of  art.  The  volume  before  us,  the  first  of  the 
scries,  is  a  beautiful  book,  an<l  reflects  great  credit  upon  the  publishers. 

If  Messrs.  Townsend  i  Co.  carry  out  their  design  as  they  advertise  to  do,  this  edition 
of  Cooper's  novels  will  certainly  be  a  magnificent  enterpri.se,  and  a  worthy  monument 
to  the  fame  of  the  illustrious  author. 

The  Boston  Evening  Expresi. 

Messrs.  W.  A.  Townsend  <k  Co.,  of  New  York,  have  commenced  the  publication  of  v 
new  and  beautiful  edition  of  this  series  of  works,  one  volume  to  be  issued  on  the  first 
of  each  month  until  the  whole  set  of  thirty-two  novels  shall  be  presented  to  the 
public  in  a  style  of  elegance,  neatness  and  value  which  they  deserve,  but  bare  never 
attained. 

"The  Pioneers,"  one  of  the  earliest  and  most  popular  of  the  scries,  has  been  selected 
by  the  publishers  for  their  initial  number,  and  it  now  lies  upon  otir  table.  Its  letter. 
pre».s  typography  and  binding  are  worthy  of  all  praise;  while  its  1. lustrations  from 
stoel  plates — one  representing  the  killing  of  the  deer.  In  the  first  chapter,  and  the  other 
Leather  Stocking  reading  the  inscription  on  the  tomb-»tone  of  the  bugamorc,  iu 
the  last  chapter — from  drawings  made  expressly  for  the  work  by  F.  O.  C.  Darley,  are 
very  artistic  and  excellent  in  their  execution. 

If  "The  Pioneers"  may  bo  considered  a  sample  of  tho  entire  series,  wo  may  say 
nnhesitatingly,  that  tho  work  upon  which  tho  enterprising  publishers  have  unterud,  will 
U-  an  honor  to  tho  trade. 


OPINIONS    OF   THE    PKESS. 

Th6  Utica  (JV.  1'.)  mraid. 

"Wc  clap  our  hands  and  are  glad  at  the  inception  of  this  first  really  worthy  edition  of 
Cooper's  novels.  With  a  full  appreciation  of  Walter  Scott,  and  tlio  par  nobiU  fratrum 
of  living  British  novelists, — with  a  knowledge  not  limited  of  contemporary  Action,  and 
Bome  acquaintance  with  Fielding.  Smollett  and  Sterne,  were  we  to  have  the  privilcgo 
of  perusing  the  worlis  of  but  one  novelist,  we  should,  as  an  American,  sc.ect  above  all 
others,  those  of  J.  Fenimore  Cooper.  Estimating,  too,  the  effects  of  fiction  on  the  mind, 
its  tendcnsy  to  give  color  to  the  imagination,  topics  to  the  fancy  and  to  reflection,  and 
fuel  to  ambition  and  the  affections,  wo  know  that  love  for  nature,  an  enlightened 
patriotism,  kindly  regard  for  humanity,  pride  in  the  beauty  of  our  scenery,  and  sym- 
pathy with  our  early  history,  spring  from  every  page  of  the  Leather  Stocking  and 
Eevolutionary  Tales. 

Take  "The  Pioneers,"  for  example.  Its  scene  is  laid  in  Otsego  county,  in  our  own 
State.  It  fs  descriptive  of  the  early  .settlers  in  that  region.  Leather  Stocking,  a  con- 
necting link  between  Europeans  and  Indians,  is  one  of  the  finest  creations  in  all  fiction, 
deserving  to  rank  with  Robinson  Crusoe,  or  the  best  of  Scotfs  heroes.  The  spirit  and 
circumstances  of  the  early  settlers  can  be  better  gathered  from  this  work  than  from 
tomes  of  history.  No  Ncriv  Yorker  should  read  any  novel  before  he  has  perused  not 
only  "The  Pioneers,'"  but  the  rest  of  the  Leather  Stocking  series. 

The  present  edition  is  issued  in  beautiful  style.  The  type  is  large,  clear  and  open, 
the  paper  beautiful,  and  the  binding  tasteful  and  solid.  Besides  several  small  wood 
engravings,  the  present  volume  has  two  fine  steel  engravings  from  drawings  by 
Darley;  one  the  death  of  the  deer,  the  other.  Natty  at  the  grave  of  the  Mohegan. 
The  former  is  a  capital  scene  of  fore.'^t  and  hunting  life;  the  latter  still  and  solemn 
and  beautiful.  They  are  worth  studying  !vs  works  of  art,  and  are  strong  allurementa 
to  every  beholder  to  peruse  the  story  they  so  well  illustrate. 

All  of  Cooper's  novels  are  to  be  issued  in  this  handsome  style,  and  if  we  coulJ  havo 
our  wish,  would  supplant  nine-tenths  of  the  current  works  of  fiction. 

"  77(6  Press"  Philadelphia. 

In  this  new  and  beautiful  edition  we  have  two  engravings  on  steel,  executed  with 
delicacy  and  yet  with  force,  from  drawings  by  Darley,  and  a  dozen  beautiful  and  char' 
acteristic  head-pieces,  executed  on  wood,  after  designs  by  the  same  artist,  who  really 
seems  to  have  taken  to  illustrating  Cooper,  as  a  labor  of  love,  so  congenially  has  he 
translated  the  author's  idea  into  that  expression  which  an  able  .artist  .sometimes  happily 
seizes,  which  Darley  never  misses.  This  new  edition  of  Cooper  will  probably  havo  as 
large  a  sale  as  any  series  of  volumes  ever  publishcil  in  this  country.  It  is  emphatically 
one  of  the  most  splendid  collections  ever  issued — cqu.allcd  only  by  the  embellished 
Abbotsford  edition  of  Scott's  Novels,  which  is  too  bulky  in  size  and  delicate  in  adorn- 
ment for  daily  use.  On  the  contrary,  this  Cooper  is  equally  adapted  for  the  Parlor  and 
the  Library, 

TJte  Boston,  TVanscHpt. 
An  Americak  Literary  Enterprise. — Such  is  emphatically  the  new  edition  of 
Cooper's  novels.  The  initial  volume,  containing  "The  Pioneers,"  hius  iust  ap- 
peared. It  is  printed  from  the  iiio.st  neat  and  distinct  type,  on  white,  subsUintial 
paper,  and  bound  in  a  handsome  and  appropriate  style.  A  good  library  edition  of 
Cooper  has  long  been  a  desideratum.  W.  A.  Townsend  &.  Co.  have  chosen  a  seasonable 
moment  for  supplying  this  national  want.  There  is  a  comparative  lack  of  gflod  new 
fiction,  and  readers  gladly  resort  to  old  favorite  and  standard  reading  in  this  depart- 
ment The  time  which  has  elapsed  since  Cooper's  death,  has  made  his  fame  and  works 
more  precions  to  his  countrymen.  The  success  of  the  Hoiis<'hold  Wavcrley,  proves 
that  the  most  familiar  of  popular  outhors  was  universally  welcome  in  a  new  and 
attractive  shape.  Libraries  are  formins  throughout  the  country,  and  to  each  of  those 
»  himdsomo  edition  of  Cooper  is  xaHigoea-'uiblc.    Every  intelligent  and  patriotic  Ameri- 


COOPER  S   WORKS 

tan  desires  to  own  one,  for  the  appreciation  of  native  productions  has  vastly  Increased 
within  the  lew  pa>t  yeais.  For  these  and  many  other  reasons,  wc  cull  the  publication  of 
this  eilition  t<e<i.<<ottii(iU. 

Anil  now,  a  woiil  or  two  as  to  its  peculiar  merits.  We  have  spoken  of  the  mechan- 
ical execution;  wc  must  refer  to  the  correct  text,  and  to  the  full  introductions — to  tho 
convenient  arrangement — each  novel  being  complete  in  one  crown  octuvo— as  superior 
to  anythinK  before  realized.  The  price — a  dollar  and  a  half  per  volume,  is  very  mode- 
rate. It  is  propo.sed  to  issue  the  series  in  successive  volumes,  bednning  on  the  first  of 
February,  and  continuing  on  the  first  of  each  month  until  the  set  is  complete.  Thus 
thirty-two  volumes  will  include  all  the  tales  and  romances,  with  the  author's  latest 
revisions. 

In  addition  to  these  cl.aims,  this  new  and  beautiful  edition  of  Cooper,  has  received 
its  crowning  distinction  from  the  vigorous,  skillful,  and,  we  must  add,  sympitthetic 
pencil  of  F.  O.  C.  Darley.  His  drawings  .trc  universally  admired  for  their  e xjiression, 
correctness  nnd  beauty  ;  but  in  these  illustrations  of  Cooper,  he  seems  to  have  found 
his  most  congeni.il  sphere.  No  designs  executed  in  this  coimtry  can  compare  with 
them  for  masterly  finish  and  effect.  His  genius  is  akin  to  Cooper's  in  a  certain  facile 
energy;  he  catches  the  very  spirit  of  the  novelist's  scenes  and  charactci-s.  In  each 
volume  there  are  two  steel  plates  and  twelve  designs  on  wood:  the  drawings  are  full 
of  spirit — the  groups  eminently  dramatic;  they  are  finished  up  In  the  most  refined 
style  of  execution — elaborately  conceived  and  executed  in  line  and  etching.  In  a  word, 
taking  in  view  the  joint  triumphs  of  autlior  and  artist,  and  the  liberal  taste  of  the  pub- 
li.«her,  we  consider  this  edition  of  Cooper  a  memorable  and  precious  example  of  native 
genius  and  enterprise,  and  a  landmark  in  the  progress  of  American  literature  and 
patriotic  feeling. 

Tht  Boston  Journal. 

Although  Cooper  is  pre-eminently  a  national  novelist,  we  have  no  library  edition  of 
his  works  comi)risin;;  his  latest  revisions  and  handsomely  printed.  The  one  now  com- 
menced is  in  every  respect  desirable.  It  is  printed  on  tinted  paper,  with  new  type, 
e.ich  work  complete  in  one  volume,  and  is  bound  in  a  substantial  style,  suitable  for  a 
library.  Its  peculiar  excellence,  however,  lies  in  its  superb  illustrations  by  Darley. 
ar  artist  who  is  fitted  for  his  tiisk  not  less  by  his  long  study  and  delicate  appreciation 
of  the  author  than  by  his  acknowledged  skill  in  his  art.  So  entirely  has  he  made  the 
creations  of  the  novelist's  fancy  his  own,  that  they  stand  out  with  the  same  bold,  vivid 
Individuality  in  the  sketch  of  the  artist  as  on  the  page  of  the  author.  Every  detail  is 
given  with  fidelity,  so  that  nothing  detracts  from  the  pleasure  of  a  harmonious  whole. 
Each  work  contains  two  fine  engravings  on  steel  and  twelve  on  wood. 

The  Korthampton  {Mats.)  Gazette  and  Courier. 

It  it  truly  a  maynfficent  undertakinc,  and  is  to  be  carried  out  in  a  generous  and 
liberal  manner.  Kach  volume  is  beautifully  illustrated  with  two  steel  engravings,  de- 
siixned  bj-*  F.  O.  C.  Darley,  ancl  numerous  Kumllor  wood-cuts  by  the  same  ma.ster 
hand.  AVhcn  the  leading  American  artist  brinps  liis  genius  to  the  tjisk  of  illustrating 
the  works  of  ,\nierica's  greatest  writer  of  llctiou,  the  result  will  be  something  of  more 
than  ordinary  merit  The  enterprise  is  truly  American,  and  commen<ls  itself  to  the 
reading  public  in  general,  and  will  be  hailed  with  si)eci;d  delight  by  all  admirers  of 
Cooper.  The  first  volume,  "The  Pioneers."  just  issued,  is  beautifully  printed  on 
thick,  heavy  pajier,  and  it  is  a  mystery  how  a  volume  of  such  elegance  can  be  furnished 
at  the  low  price  of  $1  &0. 

Th*  JV.  T.  Evening  PoH. 

Tlie  execntl«»Tt  of  the  volume  Is  In  all  respecti  worthy  of  the  geni\is  of  the  nutbor 
whose  work  it  iierpetuates,  and  cannot  fail  to  renew  the  interest  that  has  for  so  lonfra 
time  made  the  name  of  Cooper  ome  of  tho  most  prominent  in  American  literature. 
I'he  de»igns,   by  Darley,  are  not  only  ex«cutcd  iu  the  bust  style  of  that  ominant 


OPINIONS    OF   THE    PRESS. 

artist,  but  are  as  original  in  conception  as  is  the  tale  whose  incidents  they  delineate 
The  illustration  of  tliis  series  of  novels  has  long  been  a  ftivorite  idea  with  Darlcy,  and 
we  can  discover,  not  only  in  the  two  slietclies  of  Leather  Stocking,  which  trace  ttia 
present  volume,  but  in  several  others  that  have  been  sliown  to  us,  the  love  of  tlir  sub- 
iect  which  the  artist  has  brought  to  his  labor.  Hejceforth  the  reputation  of  Darlcy 
will  be  associated  with  his  illustrations  of  Cooper,  aud  no  edition  will  be  considered 
complete  without  them. 

The  Bxifialo  Cnmmeroial  AdverUner. 

Messrs.  Townsend  &  Co.  have  engaged  in  the  enterprise  of  publi.shing  an  edition  of 
tlie  complete  works  of  the  great  American  novelist,  in  a  style  of  elegance  in  typo- 
graphy and  binding  befitting  the  high  merits  of  the  series.  The  American  public  owe 
a  lieavy  debt  of  gratitude  to  Mr.  Cooiier,  wlio  was  the  first  novelist  to  win  for  this 
country  an  enduring  fame  in  works  of  fiction.  Nearly  all  his  works  are  purely  Amer- 
ican in  character,  and  American  in  the  true  sense,  the  various  personages  introduced 
being  truthful  portraits  of  some  phase  of  American  character.  His  descriptions  of 
American  scenery,  too,  are  among  the  most  charming  in  our  recollection.  Add  to  this 
that  the  plot  of  all  his  tales  is  explicit,  consequent,  and  clear,  and  his  style  as  a  writer 
eminently  pleasant,  and  we  have  sufficient  reason  for  ranking  Mr.  Cooper  as  the  first 
of  American  novelists. 

The  Boston  Evening  Gazette. 

The  typographical  execution  and  general  appearance  of  "The  Pioneers"  are  most 
crcdit.able  to  Messrs.  Townsend  &  Co.  Paper,  print,  binding,  illustrations,  are  alike 
excellent.  When  completed,  no  handsomer  volumes  will  grace  the  shelves  of  a  lib. 
rary.  It  seems  aln.ost  needless  at  this  late  day  to  urge  the  importance  of  possessing 
the  works  of  Fenimore  Cooper.  His  fictions  have  as  yet  been  equalled  by  no  Amer- 
ican author.  They  possess  a  charm  for  both  old  and  young;  are  unexceptionable  in 
their  tone;  have  a  vividness  of  description  no  other  romancist  has  approached,  and 
are  truly  American  in  all  their  characteristics.  But  what  use  to  praise  a  man  who 
created  a  Leather  Stocking  and  a  Naramattah?  What  avails  Laudation  of  the  author 
of  "The  Spy"  and  of  "The  Wept  of  the  Wish-ton-Wish  ?"  His  stories  should  bo 
familiar  in  every  household,  and  to  such  as  may  not  own  them,  we  would  cordially 
and  honestly  commend  the  edition  to  which  we  allude. 

The  Portland  (3/«.)  Argus. 

The  style  and  finish  of  the  work  are  such  as  to  make  it  a  fitting  testimonial  to  tho 
genius  of  the  most  fascinating  of  all  our  native  writers,  and  it  should  receive  the  sup- 
port and  approval  of  the  American  public. 

TTie  Ne/io  York  Tribune. 
In  this  first  installment  of  TowNSENP's  new  edition  of  the  novels  of  Cooper  we  hare 
a  promise  that  the  productions  of  the  gi-eat  American  writer  of  fiction  will  be  pro- 
senled  to  the  public  in  a  form  worthy  of  the  author  and  his  reputation.  The  edition 
will  be  comprised  in  thirty-two  volumes,  to  be  issued  on  the  first  day  of  each  month, 
containing  the  latest  corrections  and  revisions  of  the  author,  and  illustrated  by 
original  designs  from  the  pencil  of  Darlcy,  and  engraved  in  a  style  of  superior  accu- 
racy and  beauty.  The  volume  now  issued  amply  sustains  the  representations  of  th» 
publishers.  It  has  rarely,  If  ever,  been  surpassed  by  any  production  of  the  press  ii 
this  country,  in  exact  and  finished  workmanship,  and  in  elegance  of  embellishmcni. 
Mr.  Darley's  designs  ha^  caught  the  genuine  spirit  of  the  novelist,  and  reproduce  o\\ 
Leather  Stocking  in  different  scenes  with  the  fresh  naturalness  of  the  original  pagj. 
The  issue  of  this  tempting  edition  can  haraiy  fail  to  induce  a  host  of  readers  to  renew 
the  pleasure  with  which  they  first  m>'/lo  tho  ucquainUuce  of  this  noble  iUusualion  of 
the  geniui  of  Fenimore  Cooper. 


BARLEY'S 

COOPER    VIGNETTES. 


ARTISTS'    PROOFS. 


The  superior  beauty  and  excellence  with  which  Mr.  Darlet's  Designs  foi 
he  New  Illustrated  Edition  of  Cooper's  Novels,  have  been  reproduced 
upon  the  steel,  have  led  the  undersigned,  at  the  request  of  numerous  artists 
»nd  amateurs,  to  cause  a  limited  number  of  Proofs  on  India  before  Letter,  to 
be  taken  from  each  plate,  with  a  view  of  issuing  them  in  a  teries  of  Folios, 
with  the  proper  descriptive  letter-press. 

The  remarkable  spirit  and  power  evinced  in  all  the  designs  from  the  pencil 
»f  Mr.  Darley,  have  signall}'  and  eminently  characterized  those  illustrating 
the  scenes  and  characters  of  Cooper's  novels.  The  artist's  long  familiarity 
with  the  pages  of  our  great  novelist,  and  a  hearty  love  and  appreciation  of  his 
genius,  have  resulted  in  the  production  of  a  series  of  drawings,  which,  for 
dramatic,  picturesque,  and  vivid  interest,  have  perhaps  no  superiors  in 
modern  art.  These  drawings  have  been  engraved  with  a  faithfulness  and 
care  worthy  their  reputation,  by  the  acknowledged  first  artists  in  the  country, 
exclusively  in  Lim  and  Etching,  and  with  a  scrupulous  regard  to  the  require- 
ments of  lirst-class  art.  In  their  nationalit}',  and  their  great  superiority  over 
ordinary  book  illustrations,  they  especially  commend  themselves  to  all  con- 
noisseurs of  the  Fine  Arts. 

The  Proofs  will  be  issued  in  eight  folios,  each  folio  containing  eight  proofs, 
jind  each  proof  accomi)anied  with  a  page  of  letter-press  descriptive  of  the 
picture,  embellished  with  a  design  on  wood  by  Mr.  Darley.  The  proofs  are 
printed  with  the  utmost  care,  on  India,  and  backed  on  the  finest  French  Plato 
Paper.  Each  folio  will  be  in  a  cover  of  highly  ornamental  design,  printed  in 
tint. 

Folios  O.ve  and  Two  are  now  ready,  and  the  remaining  Six  will  follow  at 
intervals  of  two  or  three  months. 

PRICE  TO  SUBSCRIBERS-THREK  DOLLARS  PER  FOLIO. 

As  the  proofs  are  limited  to  a  small  number  (only  500  impressions  from 
each  plate,  after  which  the  plates  are  lettered,  so  that  no  more  can  be  takenj, 
DO  subscription  will  be  received  except  for  the  full  set. 

-W.  A.  TOWI¥SEI¥I>  &  CO., 

No.  45  ^VALKEU  STREET,  NEW  YORK. 


f^  THE  LIBRARY 

<r/Af<'        UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
SrHi  Santo  Barbara 

STACK  COLLECTION 

THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW. 


10m'10,'63(E1188g4)476D 


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